


Heavy Armor

by MyIvy



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Art, Choking, Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fanart, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Recovery, Revenge, Sexual Assault, Suicidal Thoughts, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-07-06 07:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15881673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyIvy/pseuds/MyIvy
Summary: "She had to kill Maxson tomorrow."Tried to gloss over the really bad parts as much as possible! Rewriting of certain scenes in Blind Betrayal.Hancock's a great guy, Maxson is the worst, and Danse is a mess.general overviewChapter 1: the bad noncon part!Chapter 2: the really violent part!Chapter 4: if you're just looking for the porn. and artwork of said porn.Chapter 5: no porn but there's a pic of danse????Chapter 7: pictures and porn againChapter 10: smut againcomment to encourage me to write the rest! or if you want pictures of certain things from the story.





	1. Scene of the Crime

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to god, all I write about is sexual assault and recovery from it. I'm sorry.
> 
> Mostly a bunch of talking.
> 
> comment to encourage me to write the rest!  
> 

“A lawyer?”

“Yep,” said Whisper and she reassembled the pistol she had laid out on a sheet on the floor of Hancock’s headquarters. Ana had been going by Whisper for sometime now and she’d grown to see it as her new name for her new life. Except sometimes she forgot and then she heard it again and found it a little embarrassing.

“Don’t much seem like the lawyering type,” he drawled.

“Well, I wasn’t always. I was pretty bad as a kid. In a gang. Sold drugs to the other kids. I was good at it, too. Hard worker, heh,” she checked the barrel and wasn’t satisfied, deciding to clean it one more time.

“The hell... you were a dealer?” Hancock sat up from where he’d been sprawled on his chaise. 

“Yep,” she repeated. “Didn’t use. No offense.”

“None taken,” Hancock assured her.

“Just a little entrepreneur, me. Then I met Nate and he was all straight laces and ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, ma’am’ and good posture so I uh...” she shrugged. “Wanted to behave for him. No one ever treated me like he did. My family was garbage, they beat on me and stuff so I tried not to be home. And the gang people just liked me because I earned. He was the first person to see me like... someone with value. Not by how much I could earn or how I looked or whatever.”

Hancock was looking at her when she checked to see why he’d gone all quiet. “What?”

“I’m sorry, sunshine...”

She waved her hands at him “No no, I know it sounds really bad but I’m not sad or anything anymore about it! It was just how stuff was. And I lived it and then stuff got better. I went and got my degree, went to law school, got a cute house...” she didn’t say ‘had a baby’ but it was there in the silence. “I didn’t really fit in with the other people in Sanctuary Hills. They got freaked out when they saw my tattoo.”

“You got a tattoo?”

She nodded and narrowed her eyes a little at him. “I’m gonna unzip my suit a bit, you gonna behave?”

“Scouts honor,” he said, placing a hand on his chest. How did he know what a Boy Scout was? she wondered.

She knew he liked her. But she just couldn’t think about anyone like that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. It still felt like Nate was going to magically appear in front of her. Like she could find him out here if she just tried hard enough.

Even though she knew exactly where his iced over body was.

Hancock had made some passes and she hadn’t responded. 

For a long time only MacCready had known the whole story. Where she’d come from, how she’d lost Shaun and Nate. It was only because they’d been drinking and he’d told her about how he’d lost his own wife to ferals, that he was out here looking for a cure for his son.

Hancock laid off when it was obvious she wasn’t interested. Always a gentleman. It took awhile for her to tell him everything too, sitting on the roof of the Old State House, smoking cigarettes with him. Again, she’d only filled him in because he’d opened up to her that night, told her about his brother who, weirdly, was also a mayor; that his real name was John McDonough.

She wanted to shake him and tell him that the real John Hancock owned slaves but there was no good time to let him know. 

“It’s pretty bad,” she warned Hancock as she showed him her collar bone area. It was a devil and a really badly drawn one, the line work blown out due to being done by some drunk amateur.

“That is really fucking bad,” agreed Hancock, whistling.

“Yeah the bake sale moms were not thrilled when I came to the pool with that,” she agreed.

“You could get it removed,” he suggested.

“Hmmm,” she considered as she snapped the last piece of her .44 into place. “Maybe.”

“How’d you meet Nate?” He asked. It seemed like a sudden question but maybe she’d made him curious.

“I helped him out when he was being mugged,” she explained. “I could see he didn’t have anything on him and if I didn’t step in the guy was going to shoot him and a soldier getting killed on leave? It would’ve been really bad all around.”

Hancock shook his head.”Even back then you were a little hero, huh?”

She flushed. “I was a drug dealer that pulled a gun on a really strung out junkie. Um, no offense.”

“Is that how you know how to use guns?” he asked. “Because uh, you know, housewife, guns. There’s a lot of incongruous stuff happening here,” he said, gesturing at her.

She nodded. “Can’t say I had a lot of experience with grenades and rifles and all that but yeah there was some carryover. Not much but...” she shrugged again. “Rough part of Boston.”

“Yeah I guess so, shit,” he lifted his eyebrows.

“I mean, you had it rougher,” she pointed out.

“Yeah but I had a good family...that makes a big difference.”

She guessed it did. She probably wouldn’t have such weird self-esteem issues if her mom and step-dad and dad hadn’t been utter assholes. She wouldn’t have gotten sucked into a gang, wouldn’t have been running drugs, wouldn’t be so weird about people seeing her body. Another bad thing about this dystopian future? No therapists.

Hancock was easy to talk to. Whisper had been really freaked out by zombie movies as a kid so she was surprised how immediately she’d acclimated to seeing ghouls. It was more the junkie thing that had made her uptight at first, all those bad experiences. But he was honorable, she guessed was the word. Just like Nate had been honorable. She guessed a dishonorable girl like her liked honorable people? All her close friends now were pretty honorable in their different ways. Danse, Preston, Piper, Nick, MacCready. Even Strong.

“I didn’t know we were so similar...” Hancock said. She guessed so. Hancock felt more like an old timey mob boss, though. But a nice one. That she was really good friends with. And gave her drugs sometimes.

Whisper didn’t use drugs except when she was pinned down in a fight and needed the boost. It happened enough that she’d gotten addicted twice now and had needed to get off.

Hancock was a good person to have around if you were messed up and coming down. And he would hook you up if you needed a fix but he’d also help you get off stuff too if that was what you wanted. A complex guy.

“Hey boss,” said Fahrenheit from the door. She was Hancock’s bodyguard and enforcer. Whisper was intensely impressed by how cool she was. She was probably the coolest person she’d ever seen. “That Brotherhood guy is here.”

It was always weird seeing Danse outside of his power armor, he looked naked and small even though he was a large man. He gave the impression that he slept in the suit and she had seen him eat in it so that was probably accurate. “Maxson wants to see you,” he said in a rush. She’d gotten him to be polite to Hancock. They were both her friends and if he wanted to keep being her friend he’d learn to be nice. So far he’d taken to not speaking to him directly if at all possible. 

She didn’t understand how Danse could be so kind and sweet sometimes and then so awful other times. They’d gotten into so many fights about it. Bad ones. He’d always come around with his tail between his legs to apologize though.

If she was being honest, part of why she liked Danse was how powerful he was, just like the Brotherhood in general, he offered incredible protection and combat know-how that her other friends just couldn’t match. When she was going to head into something really bad, she always took Danse with her.

Was she just being friends with him for safety? Or did she think she could turn him around? She didn’t like thinking about it. The old her didn’t put up with any bigotry. What kind of person was she now?

She folded up her sheet, tsking at the dust and reminding herself to send Codsworth over to have a field day with Hancock’s dusty Old State House.

Hancock offered her a hand to help her up off the floor as she dusted herself off with her other hand.

“Your suit,” Danse said stiffly and she looked down, realizing it was still unzipped a little. Like her, Danse was a bit prude. She didn’t like people looking at her body, if the Vault suit wasn’t so protective, she’d never wear the thing.

“Sorry, I was showing Hancock my terrible tattoo,” she laughed as she gave Hancock’s hand a squeeze in good-bye. 

“You have a tattoo?” Danse asked in a whisper as they left the Old State House and she zipped up again. It hadn’t even been actual cleavage and he’d still noticed and fussed. “I also have a tattoo,” he said. “A Brotherhood one.” Of course. 

“On your arm, huh?” she guessed.

“How did you know?” he asked, suspicious like she’d spied on him.

“Where else does a guy like you get a tattoo?” she laughed. He had a puzzled look but didn’t ask her to explain. “What does Maxson want?”

He shook his head. “No idea," he said as he climbed back into his power armor, looking less naked now.

She nodded, she’d been expecting that answer. Maxson kept everything close to the vest. Except with her, weirdly. He always seemed to tell her, a person he barely knew, who was a really recent recruit, all sorts of stuff. Stuff he didn’t tell Danse or Kells, even. Maybe it was because she was an outsider, he felt better sending her on the most dangerous missions because she wouldn’t really be a loss.

\----

Aboard the Prydwen, Maxson had Danse wait outside once he’d delivered her to him, shutting the door to the room that looked out over the Commonwealth. She didn’t like that. Shit. She really was friends with Danse because he made her feel safe, wasn’t she? Shit, shit.

And she didn’t like being alone with Maxson. There was always something gruff and threatening about him. Danse could be reasoned into being less prickly, less severe. Maxson was always a weird, prowling presence, pacing around whenever he spoke to her in his viewing room.

Whisper was a large woman, broad shouldered and powerful arms. She’d been larger than Nate. She was larger than most men, really. She was about the same size as Danse. But not Maxson. The man was a bear in human form.

But even if he’d been shorter and less broad, she thought she’d still not like being alone with him.

“Are you well?”

She was surprised by the question but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said in his usual growl, pouring her a shot of bourbon. She took it and downed it, letting it warm up her cheeks. She had barely finished it before he was speaking again. “Change out of that,” he said, gesturing at her Vault suit.

“Oh. Alright. I will,” she assured him, bewildered by the request.

“Now.”

Now? There was nowhere to change. It was just one open room. “Sir?”

“I’ll turn away. There’s a pilot uniform on the table.”

It was a new one. Had he set this out for her? Heart pounding she waited for him to turn away and started changing as fast as she could into the Brotherhood uniform. She shivered a little when the cold air touched her skin as she wriggled into it.

Really, it felt about the same, just as form fitting. Few more pocketed areas which was nice. The material felt less sturdy, though, less thick.

“Ok. Um. Thank you, sir,” she said to let him know she was done. And then thanked him for the outfit? She guessed?

He turned around and looked at her, nodding a little at what he saw. 

She held her folded vault suit in front of her, feeling like she wanted something between them. Lots of Brotherhood members wore these, she didn’t know why she felt so strange about it right now.

“Come here, look out,” he said and she came closer, thinking he wanted to show her something below. But when she came to stand beside him, he didn’t say anything. Against any good judgment, she looked down. She didn’t like looking down from the Prydwen, she knew it was safe, there was glass, but it still made her feel queasy.

“Stay there,” he said finally, moving behind her and taking hold of her shoulders. She tensed, desperately wishing Danse was there. He was right outside the room, wasn’t he? Probably?

“Were you cold?” he asked, in his permanently angry sounding voice.

“Sir?” she asked, wishing any of this made sense.

“Just now. When you were changing.”

She nodded, mind frantically trying to calculate where this was going. She knew the answer but it was so strange she couldn’t accept it. “Yes, sir.”

There was rustle and then his hands left her arms, finally, and his coat was around her shoulders. And then his arms were around her, hands folded on her stomach, breath on her ear.

This was alright, wasn’t it? Romantic and all that.

No. No, it wasn’t. She hated it. She didn’t want anyone but Nate and definitely not Maxson, the man that was always playing in the shallows of bigotry. She was just waiting for the day when it was going to be too much for her to stomach.

Was it today? Was this behavior enough to make her turn away from them finally?  
She wanted it to be but she’d lose so much. Danse. The power armor. The protection.

He didn’t say anything for a long time, her heart stringing every moment out, heartbeat to heartbeat feeling like an eternity. Was she going to have to be his girlfriend now? Pretend this was romantic and not inappropriate?

And then he was sliding a hand into the coat, finding a breast. They were heavier since she’d had Shaun, weighty. She understood why he’d had her change. With some work you could feel for a nipple, pull at it, get it hard.

Thinner material.

\----------

“You weren’t wearing that when you went in,” said Danse in confusion when she reappeared, pale and trembling. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m going back to Sanctuary,” she mumbled, heading out to the deck to get a vertibird pilot to take her off this fucking ship.

Danse came with her, but like a good soldier he didn’t ask what had happened. He assumed it was classified.

For the next few days she stayed in her house. Mostly in bed. The dog curled up in bed with her and she was grateful for it.

And then she thought of something else that would make her feel safer.

She asked Strong to sleep in her bed with her. He’d obliged. She thought maybe super mutants curled up together to sleep, she’d certainly never seen enough beds in super mutant areas. And he certainly acted like it, letting her snuggle right into him, under his chin, against his chest. He was really warm, too. 

He liked to pet her. She thought he saw her as a kind of pet, like one of the mutant hounds. And he was protective of her, too, like you’d be for a pet you really loved. He’d taken bullets for her, taken sledgehammers to the head for her.

People that were turned into super mutants lost their sexual organs, too. She’d found the safest place in the world to sleep.

So with the dog and Strong, she finally managed to get some sleep.

He didn’t ask what was wrong with her. He kind of treated her like she was sick or injured. She guessed she was.

 

But Strong left during the day, she couldn’t make him stay in bed with her all the time. So she was alone.

With herself.

And her anger.

Mostly she was angry at herself.

Ana hadn’t even said ‘no’ at any point. And it was Ana. She wasn’t Whisper. What a stupid name.

She hadn’t fought him off. She didn’t know which of them would win in a fight. But she hadn’t tried. She’d just let him.

She was done with the Brotherhood. She had to be. Right? But the power armor. Danse. Vertibirds that swept in and took her away when she was pinned down. All that protection hovering around the settlements, cleaning out buildings of ferals and raiders.

She shivered, thinking about all that security leaving her. She needed them. She needed him on her side if she was going to find Shaun.

She’d have to give the power armor back, she thought for the millionth time. How many times had it been the only thing between her and dying alone in the woods?

“Hey.” There was a knock on the door frame.

Hancock.

He looked strange in Sanctuary, outside of his palace, his dark little kingdom, in the bright light of her reconstructed old bedroom. Who’d brought him here?

“You crashing?” he asked, peering at her.

He thought she was having withdrawals. She shook her head. “Um. No. I just-”

“Holy shit,” he said, raising his hands, in alarm. She slowly realized it was because she’d started crying out of nowhere. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said. “You want...?” he held out his arms to her and she shook her head. He pointed at the door. “Want me to leave?” She shook her head.

“Want me to shut the door?” she nodded and he got up and closed the door. He took his coat off and put it over a chair, getting down on the floor at her bedside. “Hey. Something happen? Or just...” he made a gesture at ‘everything’. They both understood that sometimes the reality of the world could just get to you and make you freak out.

“Something happened,” she said, surprised her voice was a raspy.

“Okay,” he said. “You wanna tell me?”

She let out a breath. “I slept with someone.”

He nodded, looking at her carefully with his black eyes. “...but it wasn’t fun, huh?”

She shook her head.

“Was this a kinda fling? Just tryin’ to have fun?”

She shook her head. He gave her a handkerchief and she mopped at her face with it.

“...did someone...” he was speaking slowly, she could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “...corner you?”

She nodded.

He furrowed his brows. “Okay. I get it. I get it. They still kickin?”

She nodded.

“Alright,” he nodded, mirroring her. “You need a doctor?”

“No,” she rasped.

He tilted his head from side-to-side. “Can I see?” he asked, gesturing at her neck. She nodded and he reached over and tugged down the collar of her pajamas, finding fingerprint bruises. “Mean fucker,” he whispered.

She nodded a little. She’d frantically pulled at Maxson’s fingers when he’d started choking her. He’d paused and looked at her.

__

“It’ll heighten things. Let me.”

__

And then he’d started choking her again.

And she’d let him.

Hancock sat on the floor, pulling out a cigarette, lighting it and offering it to her.

She took it.

“Want me to kill them?”

She shook her head. “You can’t.”

“Yeah I figured,” he sighed. They both knew she wasn’t shy about killing people and that if they weren’t dead yet, there was a reason.

And he knew she wasn’t going to tell him who.

They sat quietly then, passing the cigarette back and forth. After a while he gave her something called Calmex, she’d never heard of it before.

“It’ll chill you out. If you wanna sleep and be able to think without freaking out.”

“John,” she said, using his first name. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, sunshine,” he promised. “You gonna....do something? Or...is it not possible?”

Good question. Was she going to do something?

Maybe if Maxson didn’t have a ship full of people under him that he could do this to just as easily, she would just make do. Try her best to avoid him. But as it stood, there was a literal army under him. An army of people that couldn’t do anything if he hurt them. It wasn’t as if he could be reported to someone.

She thought of telling Danse what he’d done. How would he react? She just didn’t know. He could turn on her, say she was lying.

And Ana couldn’t take that.

That would hurt more than anything and she didn’t want to know the answer.

So she had to handle this herself.

“I’m gonna do something,” she assured him.

“But it’s going to take time.”

\------

 

She needed lots of things for her plan to work, things that she had to do a lot of hunting and research for. Digging through libraries, Brotherhood archives, “tomb” raiding through Boston. 

In the meantime, she sometimes had to meet with Maxson again. Alone.

The first time he’d tried to get her to come over to him and she’d said that she was needed elsewhere and hurriedly left the room before he could say anything.

The next time he chided her. “I didn’t dismiss you.”

“Sorry, sir,” she said quietly.

“You’re not as disciplined as the rest of my soldiers. I understand this,” he said. His face looked the same as always, not leering, not lascivious. Just his usual cold, animal eyes.

“May I please be dismissed?” she asked, not even sure how to be dismissed in the military, really. He’d always just dismissed her unprompted before.

He looked at her for a long moment. “You’re dismissed.”

She practically ran out of the room.

The third time he summoned her and shut the door, it was about Danse.

\--------

Danse is a synth. Synth. All this time, he was a synth. A run away synth that probably didn’t know he was a run away. She assumed. You had to be a huge asshole to hate synths knowing you were a synth yourself the whole time.

She was out of breath when she reached Listening Post Bravo. Maxson had sent her to execute him but she definitely wasn’t going to do that. “Danse!”

Danse was out of his power armor, looking pathetic, like he hadn’t slept, unshaven. And with a gun in his hand. On the console in front of him were bottles of bourbon. 

“Danse,” she repeated, more slowly. “Danse, there’s nothing wrong with being a synth,” she said, coming to him, gingerly picking the gun out of his hands and taking the ammo out of it as she spoke. “Do you hear me? You’re still a person, just a different kind of person.”

“I’m an abomination,” he whispered.

Ana shook her head, taking his face in her hands, making him look at her. “No. No. You’re my friend. I care for you. I know you’re scared but I’m not going to let anything happen to you. It’s okay.”

He shut his eyes, black lashes wet on his cheeks. “I can never go back.”

“You don’t need them,” she coaxed. “You’re going to live with me now.” She cuddled his head to her chest, petting the shorter hair at the back of his neck. “You’re not alone. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

One of his hands was tightly grasping the back of her suit. “Thank you, sister,” he said after a long time, unable to not default to Brotherhood norms, even now.

“Come on, let’s go,” she said, wiping his tears away with her thumbs. He nodded a little and stood.

She felt like she’d been shot when they stepped outside and Maxson’s voice boomed out at them.

“I knew it. I knew you couldn’t do it,” he said furiously. “I knew it.” His gun was out and he was pointing it at Danse and Ana was between them immediately.

“Don’t you dare. You’ll have to kill us both,” she said, mortified at how dramatic that sounded but it was true, he would have to lose his two best soldiers.

Maxson slowly lowered his gun, lips in a snarl. “He needs to be put down. Kill him, that’s an order, soldier.”

“It’s okay, Ana,” Danse said quietly. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Ana wanted to scream, Maxson was just feeding Danse’s depressive state, driving him back to the arms of suicide.

“No. And if you hurt him, we’re done. I will leave. I’m sick of this. Synths are people, an enslaved race of people, you should be helping them, not murdering them! Danse gave you everything! This is how you thank him?” She was just yelling at him now, and not all of this was very coherent.  
“Kill him,” he repeated.

__

_I’ll kill you,_ she thought. _I’ll kill you._

But she couldn’t. Not now. Someone might know where he’d gone. There was a vertibird pilot over the ridge at the very least. And Danse would probably snap if she killed Maxson right now.

No. She couldn’t do it now. “Please. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Just leave him alone.”

Maxson’s shoulders relaxed some, looking between the bit of Danse he could see beyond her and her eyes. “Very well. He’s exiled. I expect you on deck tomorrow.”

As Maxson left, she let out a shuddering breath, sitting down hard on the ground, heart pounding in her ears.

Her timetable had just moved up.

She had to kill Maxson tomorrow.


	2. Alibi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sole Survivor needs an alibi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every dumb fucking fanfic trope. I sincerely apologize. Again.

Ana hung off the side of the Prydwen, regretting many of her life decisions.

She’d made some magnetic climbing clamps and fastened them to the balls of her feet and her hands. And for the past few weeks she’d been practicing climbing with them on the sides of buildings. She’d even practiced climbing at really great heights, Strong there to spot her a few floors down in case she fell. But Strong couldn’t do anything to help her now.

Just like the Atomic Arachnid, she muttered to herself, the wind ripping across the sides of the air ship to the engines. She had the strength to hold herself to the ship, the question was ‘how long?’.

She had to climb from one end of the gondola to the opposite end where the observation deck was. Starting at the opposite end was necessary because that was the only place that wasn’t guarded and where she could disappear off the side without anyone noticing.

It was impossible not to look down, the Boston Airport spiralling under her. It wasn’t the vertigo that turned her stomach but the memory of being forced to look over the railing of the observation deck as Maxson squeezed her neck and thrust into her.

Do not throw up in your helmet, she told herself. 

She’d gotten the ‘Black Ghost’ stealth armor on a special trip down to the Capital Wasteland. Jun had told her that term was a racial slur for black people. Fucked up. So she’d carefully painted over the name on the breast plate. Half of her family as Puerto Rican, and none of it was black, but still. Solidarity.

It occurred to her, way up above the city, that she had no idea what had happened to Puerto Rico. Was it still there? Was it fine there? There must be places where it was fine, where the bombs hadn’t fallen. She doubted anyone had taken the time to bomb the little island.

Thinking all her weird thoughts made the time pass and let her ignore the way her body was starting to ache. None of that. She was almost there, almost to the curve of metal and then polyglass that encased the observation deck.

It was early and the sun was starting to blaze out over the metal. She was going to get cooked, why hadn’t she thought of that? Swallowing down bile, she continued. It was getting hard to hold onto the clamps, her hands were sweating in the gloves. But she made it to the base of the observation deck, the metal portion of it that secured the glass encasement to the rest of the ship.

Sweat on her back and not just her hands now, she worked off the bolts to one of the metal plates. The Prydwen looked impressive but it was a staging area, it couldn’t fight, and it couldn’t take a hit, so the plating wasn’t very thick at all and she worked off bolt after bolt until there was only one left. Ana used the remaining one as a hinge for the plate to hang from. A falling plate would get someone’s attention down below for sure. She was a quiet as she could be, she knew Maxson wasn’t on his deck yet, still in his quarters. But he could always just pop into his observation deck for any reason. There was only so much quiet she could be, she was dealing with a piece of metal here, after all.

Holstering her wrench, she activated the suit and climbed up and into the hole she made. Now she was tucked into the little nook between the observation deck and the glass that surrounded it. Just out of paranoia she peeked up and made sure that indeed, Maxson wasn’t there. No one was. She flopped back down, pulling off her helmet and panting.

After she’d caught her breath, she laid out her drugs. Jet. Buffout. Psycho.

Weirdly, she wasn’t actually scared. Ana and fear didn’t work that way. She hadn’t been afraid while Maxson was using her, either. Instead she’d been afraid that at any moment she’d be unable to handle it and lash out at him and ruin everything she’d built up. Pulling his fingers from her throat at first, that had frightened her. She thought she’d have to kill him then, that he was trying to kill her.

Ana didn’t actually know that much about sex. She’d done it a couple times when she was younger and hadn’t liked it. It’d hurt at worst and been uncomfortable at best. It wasn’t until she met Nate that she realized her partners had been awful at it. You were supposed to work someone up to it, for example. She was supposed to be wet and loose, not tense and dry. So most, if not all, of her sexual knowledge had come from Nate and Nate was no great adventurer in bed. Which was fine by her, she hadn’t been planning on sleeping with anyone but her sweet husband for the rest of her life so what did she have to know advanced sex stuff for? Anyway, she was shy. The most scandalous thing she’d ever done was making love to Nate in the park, out in the open air, under the stars. Math wise, that was probably when she’d gotten pregnant. She liked that. She liked that a really romantic night had brought about their child.

So she was shy but she wasn’t afraid.

When she had a task, she just wasn’t afraid anymore. All of this was difficult, but she wasn’t afraid. Her task was to kill Maxson and so she’d arranged all the things she’d need for that task. A stealth suit, tools, her favorite .44, a knife, a bunch of backup stealth boys, the clamps, the drugs.

And one more thing.

\---------

Ana was laying on her back with sat with Danse’s head on her stomach. She was keeping him close since his exile, not trusting him on his own and she had everyone on ‘watch Danse’ duty. Which was a very unpopular duty, given how abrasive he was towards synths and ghouls and super mutants and how much of her retinue contained those people or people very sympathetic to those people.

“Are you taking up knitting?” he asked as she braided cord together.

She looked down at her fingers then back at him, furrowing her brow. “You don’t know what knitting is, do you?”

He shook his head. “That’s not knitting,” he guessed.

“No. This is braiding. Knitting is...is with two sticks. I’ll show you sometime. You might like it.” She’d taken up knitting because she’d wanted to make Shaun a blanket. It had been a catastrophe that she’d burned in the sink in frustration. So she knew some basics but beyond that Danse would have to fend for himself.

He was quiet and she knew he was dying to say that knitting was for women but he knew she would yell at him for it. “That’s alright. What are you making?”

\-------

Holding onto the sticks at either end of it, Ana looped the garrotte around Maxson’s throat from behind, just as he turned away. Then she hauled backwards and down, yanking him back and over the railing, onto the glass panes and metal where she’d been hiding.

This part was important.

She had to strangle him because he couldn’t be allowed to call out to the guards outside the observation deck.

Three different drugs pumping in her veins, she straddled him, using the garrotte’s sticks like reins, using all of her weight, making his back arch under her thighs.

But he had good instincts. Instead of clawing at his neck or trying to reach behind him, he rolled, taking her with him. He got on top of her, battering at where he thought she was, his huge fist smashing into her helmet. No. No, he was winning, she’d taken two blows to the kidneys already. She could feel him figuring out where she was under him, her shape in the shimmering refractions of light, fumbling at her helmet.

He yanked it off. His eyes widened, surprised but then angry again, grasping her by the face and then lifting her head before slamming it back down again, making her vision go white and then black for a moment. He went to do it again but she bit his hand, between the thumb and forefinger, with the garrotte gone slack, he let out of a throaty rasp of a groan.

Ana’s hand shot up and she took hold of one of the garrotte sticks and pulled hard, choking off any reply. His slight hiss was drowned out over the engines and a door. The knights that guarded his door hadn’t knocked or anything. Now that she thought about it, they hadn’t been concerned when he was snorting and grunting behind her, either. Maybe they were used to those kinds of noises. Or maybe it just wasn’t loud enough for them to hear. Either way, she wasn’t going to question it.

His fist bashed into her face again, splitting her lip, but she held onto her end of the garrotte. He pulled back to hit her again but she bashed a magnetic clamp into his face first, blood and spit flying.

The clamps.

She grabbed up the other and frantically looped the end of the garrotte around another clamp and then clicked the ‘engage’ button and tossed it upwards. The clamp snapped onto the metal railing above them, yanking Maxson’s head to the side. He tried to untangle himself from the loops, he had the other end of the garrotte after all, but it was difficult to do when you were being strangled and didn’t know how many times or which way the cord was wound. While he was distracted she scrambled away from him and drew the knife she’d gotten from Pickman’s gallery. One asshole’s weapon for another asshole.

She’d brought it because it was the sharpest knife she’d ever seen, and she wanted to make him bleed. And it wouldn’t make the noise of a gunshot.

There was no time for saying something witty or cool. She shoved open his coat and stabbed him under the ribs. She knew the coat would resist the blade, she’d heard about the ballistic weave in it so it had to be opened.

He died fast. Just a sharp tension in his shoulders and then he went slack. A stab into the heart did that. She stared at him for a while, numb, the drugs starting to wear off. No, she needed to go while the drugs were still in her.

She grabbed up her helmet and the rest of her gear and...no, the clamp...

Chiding herself, she unwound the garrotte from the clamp and disengaged it. As soon as she did, his hand clamped over hers and he headbutted her and she tumbled back.

“Little bitch,” he rasped. He was the only human she knew that could get away with calling her ‘little’. She kicked his kneecap and it gave out. How had he survived?!

“What kind of horror movie villain shit is this,” she hissed, stabbing him in the neck when he pulled back to hit her again. She danced away behind him and popped another Buffout, letting it dissolve under her tongue, her muscles feeling like they were vibrating as she grabbed hold of his coat’s collar and hauled. Just had to get him to that hole and chuck him out, her overly steroided brain was saying. He grabbed her ankle and yanked her off her feet. This time when he tried to hit her she was strong enough to block and fast enough to grab Pickman’s knife from his neck, sending gushes of blood pouring out, splattering over the front of her suit.

His flight suit. Was their ballistic weave in his flight suit too?

Just exposed areas then. She thought how she fought bears with a knife.

Up and under the chin.

She slammed it in to the hilt.  
\----

She escaped the Prydwen in a haze, invisible in the back seat of the next vertibird that was taking off. As it landed she could hear the call come over the radio. That was fast.  
\---

“Hancock,” she whispered.

“Holy fucking shit,” he whispered in awe as he jumped up from his couch. “Fuck. Fuck, you did it again. You took too much-”

“You’re not tripping,” she hissed, removing her helmet. “It’s me!”

He blinked as her floating head appeared. “Oh fuck...they cut your head off..”

“No, you idiot!” Ana deactivated the suit. “I need your help!”

“Go on,” he encouraged, circling her as he sucked on a cigarette, finally acclimating and falling back into ‘everything is cool’ mode.

“I just killed Maxson,” she whispered.

He stopped circling and looked at her. Really looked. “Oh.”

“I need an alibi,” she swallowed. “They’re going to suspect Danse but I already made sure there were lots of people babysitting him. I have a feeling they’re going to suspect me too though. Maybe not but-”

“But why take the chance. Sure. C’mere, let’s patch you up. How about you and me were playing cards at the time? Fahrenheit’ll back us up, too,” he said, holding his cigarette between his teeth as he pulled a medkit down from a shelf and brought it over to the couch.

“John...I want it to be a different alibi.”

“Oh?” he asked as he helped her take her armor off.

“Like...sex different.”

“Oh?” he repeated. “Why’s that?”

She let out a breath. She’d been preparing this speech. “I just thought if...if it was something more scandalous, something that the Brotherhood wouldn’t like, that they would think was weird, they would believe it better as an alibi. Because who would make up something like that as an alibi? When it could just be something like playing cards. So...so I want us to get caught together.”

Hancock let out a little bark of a laugh. “Wow, sister. Wow. Huh. Well, okay. I’m not going to complain. No skin off my nose. Heh.”

Hancock fixed her up, had Fahrenheit help her into a bath, and then she came back to him, in a bathrobe, sitting on his bed with the door shut.

“Wanna come up with cute pet names? Or is it that we’re gonna get caught in a fling?” he asked.

“You already call me ‘sunshine’,” she murmured, taking the towel he offered her and rubbing her hair with it. She stopped at looked at him. “John. Thank you. You’re always really sweet to me but I know this is big. I came to you because I knew you’d help. And being able to know someone that would help like this, it means a lot. This means a lot to me.”

He shrugged a shoulder, giving her a lazy smile. “Like I said, no problem. What’s your pet name for me going to be?”

She paused, rubbing her hair.

“What, you’re really thinking about it?”

She frowned at him. “Believability is important.”

“True, true,” he nodded, pulling out his pipe. She’d gotten it for him for Christmas and he fucking loved the thing. He loved using it when he was thinking. “What about sugar ghoul?”

“What, like ‘sugar daddy’?”

“Heh, well I didn’t want to make you call me ‘daddy’,” he offered. “Unless you wanna.”

She laughed, “No, gross. Um...” Nothing that she’d called Nate, which crossed off a lot of things. “Sweetheart.” She nodded a little. She’d never called Nate that. And John really was sweet. “How’s that?”

“Swell,” he said, blowing a smoke ring for her. She smiled and madea spinning motion with her finger and he got up and turned his chair around so she could change. She’d planned to hide here or the Rexford, so she had clothes stashed at her room that she’d sent for. Jeans and a flannel shirt felt amazing now. Getting changed with John in the room felt like a completely different thing than getting changed with Maxson nearby.

Comfortable.

“All done.”

Hancock turned his chair around again. “So. You supposed to have been my girl for a while then?”

She nodded, “That would be better than a fling. I think....I think people know I wouldn’t...”

“That you like stuff real. I gotcha.”

She hadn’t said ‘Maxson was the one who hurt me and that’s why I killed him’, but she didn’t have to. She knew John figured that out, he was a smart man.

“What sorts of things should I know? If we’re...we’re going to be...”

He laughed a little. “Nothin’, really. With you, it’d just be missionary for a while, I think.”

Her eyes widened and then his did too. “You didn’t meant in bed,” he realized.

She shook her head, bright-red. “...What’s missionary?” she asked after a moment.

“Holy shit, what was pre-war America teaching you?” he laughed. “No, no, come back! No it’s okay. I’ll tell you. It’s okay you don’t know.”

She sat down again, face still burning. He explained. And indeed....that was what she was used to. Maxson had been the only one to do different things with her and that didn’t count.

That didn’t count as sex.

She messed with her fingers, staring at them. “John. What’s it called when...when you choke someone?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Erotic asphyxiation.”

There was a word for it! Maxson hadn’t just made it up. Other people did that. “Is it...why would you do that?” she mumbled.

“Well, the lack of oxygen gives you a kind of high. When you do it to yourself it’s called autoerotic asphyxiation.”

She nodded, made sense. Going to law school had taught her a lot of Latin.

“You only do it with someone you really trust, though. Because it’s dangerous. So be careful, sunshine.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to I just wanted to know what it was.” Maxson had thought she’d like that? She had a feeling he’d only done it because he liked the sound of her gasping, he’d made noise every time she’d gulped for air.

“Alright,” he nodded, easy going as usual. “That’s also several steps uh...beyond just missionary.”

She turned and looked at him squarely. “What else is there?”

He lifted his brows at her. “Kind of a lot...”

“Tell me.”

Hancock told her some things. Some. She really couldn’t handle a lot of the stuff so he would veer when she got too alarmed or embarrassed. She felt like a such a baby now. People did all sorts of things all the time and she hadn’t even known about them because no one had told her. How could she have killed people but not know about basic sex stuff. She kept asking Hancock how ‘common’ this or that was. Some things were ‘pretty common’. Some things were ‘less common but popular’ and he’d clarified that too.

“There’s so much,” she complained, face in her hands.

“You don’t have to do any of it, sunshine,” he assured her. “You just do what you feel comfortable with. Any guy, or girl, or anyone, will be happy you’re in their bed.” He’d told her about how people with vaginas had sex, too. What would that be like? She tried to picture her and Piper holding one another, legs laced, squirming.

Would she like that?

She’d known a couple girls like that, but she just hadn’t been interested in any kind of relationship so she had no idea if she would like a girl.

She’d just known that she liked Nate.  
\-------

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled as she climbed into John’s squeaky bed. She was wearing a tank top and panties. That was it. Awful but necessary in case a Brotherhood member showed up.

“What do I care?” John said, just in his underwear as he arranged the blankets and things. “Sheet between us, no problem.”

“...have you done this before?” she asked, peering at him.

“What, pretended to be in a relationship with someone?” he laughed. “No, sunshine. This is a first.”

“You just seem...really okay with it.”

He propped himself up on an elbow, looking extremely lucid. “Hey. You were in a bad situation. This is part of getting you out, I’m gonna take this seriously.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “You’re a good person and a great friend. I’ll play house with you as long as you like.”

Slowly she put her arms around his neck, squeezing him, feeling the rough terrain of his skin on hers.

\-------

The Brotherhood arrived outside of Goodneighbor an hour later and banged on the door to the Old State House. The Neighborhood Watch had been told to not open fire on them.

Ana's heart pounded in her rib cage. Sure they looked like they’d been sleeping together but sleep-sleeping, not sex-sleeping.

“We look like we were having a Christian sleepover,” she whispered in alarm.

He wiped his mouth. “Remember what I told you about fingering?”

She nodded, wide-eyed but determined.

“Do that. To yourself. Just sprawl on the bed and go to town, grab at your hair. You’ll be flushed and the room’ll smell like sex. Go ahead, I’ll stall ‘em,” he said, getting up and slipping out the bedroom door to head down to meet them.

Okay. She could do this. Okay. She’d done this before. Not much. But okay. She slid her hand down. She needed to think of something, not Brotherhood coming to arrest her.

She tried to think of Nate.

No. She just saw his dead body and her muscles tensed. No. No. Not Nate.

She thought of John? What if it were his fingers sliding down, finding her with them. Her own were too soft but his would be roughly textured, they’d feel nice. He’d be nice about it. God, he was just the only person she could picture having sex with out of the people she knew. Because she knew he would have sex with her. That he wanted to. That he’d be nice and go slow.

Her thighs squeezed around her hand and she huffed into a pillow. Faintly she could hear Hancock getting angry in the other room.

“This better be fucking important!” Approaching stomps, a rap on the door. “Hey, baby, get dressed real quick, some tin cans are here for you.”

She poked her head out, making sure they saw her alarmed face and distressed hair. The knights looked at her and she looked back. “Just a moment!” she stammered out before shutting the door. She hauled on her borrowed clothes again, coming out with her boots in her hands, putting them on as she spoke.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“We’ve been asked to escort you back. Elder Maxson is dead.”

\--------

She played dumb, like she had no idea that ‘escort you back’ meant ‘we think it was you’. Innocent people ask lots of questions, she remembered her favorite instructor telling her. So she asked lots of questions. How did it happen, who was around, when did it happen, were there any suspects.

The knights were uncomfortable and told her that they didn’t know but that Captain Kells would inform her.

When she arrived, looking bizarre in a jeans and a flannel, the clinic had been cleared for an emergency meeting room. Proctors Teagan, Ingram, and Quinlan were there. Not Kells, to her surprise. A knight that had brought her put a hand on her shoulder and told her to wait outside a moment and then she was brought in.

The knight had told them where she was. She could see it on their faces, a mix of disgust, alarm, and confusion.

“Knight,” said Ingram.

“Ma’am,” she said, all her lawyer-acting skills coming back to her. “They told me. Not much but...do you know how it happened? Was it an accident or...?”

“Not an accident,” said Quinlan drly.

She swallowed, like she was trying to accept this hard truth. Murder. “Please. Let me find them. I can do it. Give me the investigation.”

Quinlan lifted a brow at Ingram. “She did discover what was happening to the supplies.”

Ingram nodded. “Just a moment. Knight. Where were you this morning between 7am and 8am? I’m sorry, we have to ask everyone.”

She shook her head, “No, I understand. I was in Goodneighbor. Sleeping.”

“Was anyone with you?”

Ana flushed and it wasn’t fake. “Yes...”

Ingram shut her eyes. “And who with?” They wanted to see if she’d tell the truth.

“...The mayor of Goodneighbor. His name is Hancock.”

“A ghoul,” said Teagan sharply. Not a question.

“He’s not feral,” she said, locking eyes with Teagan.

Ingram held up a hand. “Will he sign an affidavit to that effect?”

Ana nodded, “Yes, of course. Can I have the case?” she asked in an eager rush.

Ingram let out a sigh. “We’ll see. We’re still questioning everyone. We might need a team. This just happened, we’re still figuring everything out.”

Probably sleeping with a ghoul might make them not want to give her the case. Maybe that was fine. She didn’t want a case with no clear solution in her lap. She’d have to frame someone.

Ana nodded again. “Right. Right. Well....well let me know if I can help at all. I used to be a lawyer.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.”


	3. Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tfw your baby is a monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just turning into me rewriting parts of Fallout 4 with more emotion, I guess.
> 
> I PROMISE there will be sex soon. I promise. If I feel motivated to write the next chapter, someone will be boning someone, I swear.

“So, uh, what does this look like? In practice?” Ana asked back at the Old State House, flopped across Hancock’s old chaise.

“I dunno. Never really ‘went steady’ with anyone,” Hancock said, making air quotes at her. “Probably just what you were doing. Come over and hang out. I go over to Sanctuary and hang out. With the doors closed sometimes. I can make really convincing sex noises if you want,” he grinned.

“Do people think we’re together already?” she asked, knitting her dark brows.

“Ehh, some people. Yeah. But other people think you’re with Danse or MacCready,” he shrugged. “No one thinks you’re bangin’ Nick though.”

“Why?” she asked, startled by that addition. What was wrong with Nick?

“Because Nick would never. He sees himself as too old to be messing around with anyone and everyone kinda knows that. Don’t worry, everyone gossips about everyone. It’s just that you’ve made a name for yourself and so...You get famous, people talk. People are bored, there’s not a lot of entertainment in the Commonwealth.”

She supposed that made sense, but she felt a heat come up her neck thinking about all the people around her having thoughts about her sex life. “I’m really sorry I sprung this on you. My whole timetable got pushed up. Oh, I didn’t tell you...Danse got kicked out of the Brotherhood.” She explained about Danse and Hancock spit out his vodka.

“He’s a what?!” he asked, not even mopping himself up.

She nodded. “They found someone back where he’s from in D.C. that did the surgery and memory wipe on him and everything.”

“Holy shit. I wish I’d seen the look on his face...”

She glared at him. “He was suicidal when I found him.”

“Yeah well, he deserves it. He’s been a shithead about synths this whole time.”

John had a point. Ana huffed and looked up at the ceiling. “I think he’s going to be better about that now.”

“Only because now he’s on the other end of the stick. I don’t know why you hang out with him, you’re not a bigot. You know that shit is wrong. That they’re wrong,” John pushed.

She shut her eyes. “I know,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I know, I just...I need them to have my back. They have resources I need. They clear out places.”

“You clear out places,” John said, though more gently.

“I can’t do this on my own, John,” she huffed, wiping at her eyes. “I just, I can’t. I have to go out into The Glowing Sea soon, and I couldn’t without the power armor, you know?”

“Baby, they’re not the only ones with power armor in the Commonwealth,” he said, coming to kneel down by where her head rested on the couch. 

Baby?

“Even raiders have power armor. We’ll get you some of your own. I bet KL-E0 knows where, she might even have some laying around.”

“It’s not just the power armor,” she mumbled, letting out a ragged breath as she tried to calm down.

“I know, but that’s at least one thing where you don’t have to feel beholdin’ to em,” he said, handing her a handkerchief. Where was he getting these?

“Right. You’re right. I need to figure out how to not need them.” He let her collect herself before speaking more.

“I might know some people you could get help from. I think they’re more your speed.”

\-----

The Railroad was a lot more her speed. And Deacon! Deacon was so funny! She smiled so much more.

“What about ‘Fixer’?” Deacon asked, arm working the pump that inflated the basketball.

“I don’t think so,” she shook her head, discarding another pair of sneakers. She’d raided a shoe store and come back with a bunch of possible sneaker candidates.

“Um, ‘Charmer’?”

She flushed. “Considering how much I blush, no.”

“That’s why it would be great!” Deacon said, squeezing on the ball to check his work. “Professor?”

“‘Professor’?” she repeated, tapping her sneakered foot against the concrete before starting to walk around, testing them. “I think I’d have to be more science-minded...”

“‘Whisper’?”

Ana bent over to tighten up the laces, “Um...I used to be called that. I was calling myself that for a while.”

“But you stopped?” he asked, giving the ball a few more pumps.

“I just got embarrassed. It was a character from a comic I liked when I was little. Miss Whisper. She was a spy.”

“That’s perfect!” Deacon said, standing up. “Miss Whisper! And you’re really good at sneaking up on stuff. I like it. Go with Whisper.” He passed her the ball.

“Well...” She caught it and experimentally tried to dribble it and ended up chasing after it immediately. “I just think it’s a little silly.”

“You need a codename. Even if it’s silly.”

“Deacon’s your code name,” she pointed out, tossing him the ball. He was much better at dribbling it. “Why are you called Deacon?”

Deacon opened his mouth but then she held up a hand “No, nevermind, I forgot you’re just going to make something up.”

“I mean it’s obvious, I used to be a deacon. There I was, surrounded by such thirsty nuns-” he began.

“Shut up, you,” she said, swatting the ball away from him.

These were people she wanted to help, every little mission she did for them, she felt like she was making a difference. A big difference. It was one thing helping settlers, but these people were people settlers would spit on. She hid them in her settlements, she escorted them to safehouses, she killed things called coursers.

She loved it.

She ended up taking Hancock out to the Glowing Sea with her, since the radiation wouldn’t hurt him. And when she came back with plans for a teleportation device, she squeezed him close in relief. She was a step closer to Shaun, to getting her baby back.

And best of all, she didn’t have to take the plans to the Brotherhood, the Railroad could help her.

\----

It was the night before they were going to try the teleportation platform. She and Hancock were next to each other at The Third Rail, squeezed into chair as she nestled against him, listening to Magnolia sing.

They came here sometimes to help their whole pretend relationship thing. It was nice going on a a date. It really was just like how they were except she could snuggle up to him in public. He put his arm around her but that was it.

No one knew their relationship was anything but real except maybe Fahrenheit. That was it. Not even Nick knew.

She’d asked to sleep over, he’d said he was happy to have her. That was hard to believe, she took up a lot of room in his bed. Ana liked their chaste little sleepovers. She’d never gotten to do this kind of thing when she was younger and now she had another chance. She read books she’d found aloud to him, or gossiped, or got him to tell her more sex things. 

And then they slept.

But not tonight. 

“Want something to put you to sleep? I’m gonna take something,” he offered after a couple hours. He was awake, too.

“John...” she murmured, her hand finding his in the lamplight. “Don’t be scared. I’ll come back, I promise.”

He looked at her in the dark. “You can’t promise that, though. I got real used to you being around and I don’t think I’ll make it if something happens to you tomorrow. I’d give anything to come with you.”

But he couldn’t. It was a one person trip, and that one person had to be her.

Ana bit her lip, reaching over to cup the side of his face and put their foreheads together. “I’ll come back. I’m not going to leave you, John.”

He put his ruddy hand over her brown one, the one holding his cheek, quiet.

And then he held her until she slept, her hands holding onto his back for dear life.

\---------

Ana came back from The Institute and dropped to her knees, trembling. Desdemona went to her but John got to her first, hugging her tightly.

“Baby. Baby, you’re okay, I’ve got you,” he said. “Get the doc!” he barked over his shoulder. Doc Carrington must have still been nearby.

“No, I’m fine. I just...” she held her stomach with one hand, like she was going to vomit. And then she did, on her hands and knees in the grass of Sanctuary Hills, all of her shaking.

Hancock held her hair back from her face, an old hand at this. “You’re okay,” he was repeating. 

Leaning on Hancock, she made it into her bedroom, John shut the door behind them and drew the curtains.

“Baby, what happened? Can you tell me?”

“I found Shaun,” she whispered into her shaking hands.

\----------

Ana drank a lot that day.

She held court at a dining room table set up in her old living room, John at her side, her friends around her. “You can go back whenever you want?” asked Deacon.

She nodded. “Whenever I like.”

“Whisper, this is fucking amazing. We can...we can do so much with this,” he said, shaking his head in awe. “And he’ll listen to you. This guy will listen to you.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, feeling like she could sleep for a thousand years. She filled her shot glass again.

“Piper, you can’t write about this,” said Nick.

“I’m not stupid!” snapped Piper. “I know this is delicate.”

“What do they want?” asked Danse. “What are they after?”

“I-they want to make synths that are human. Which I don’t really understand. They already have. He said they wanted to make a race of people that could live above ground safely? I-I didn’t get it.”

“But they don’t think they synths they’ve already made are people?” asked Hancock.

She shook her head. “No. They don’t. Well, some people in The Institute do but no, overall, no. They have a whole division for hunting down synths. I’m supposed to help retrieve one that’s living has a raider leader on the Libertalia.”

Deacon ran a hand through his hair. “You should do it.”

“What?” she blinked at him.

“He’s a raider. Fuck him. But beyond that, you need to stay on this guy’s good side. Their good side. You’re in, Ana, and you in good. You gotta do whatever it takes to keep this going. So whatever they want, do it.”

She bit her lip, nodding. Right. Deacon was right.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be deciding important stuff while she’s definitely drunk,” said Nick. “Rest up, kid. Eat something, drink something that isn’t booze. This is Commonwealth-changing stuff we’re talking about.”

John stood from where he was at her side. “Right, everyone clear out. I’ll get her fed and to bed.” Strong fussed until Ana squeezed his hand and assured him she’d come find him if she felt like she needed protection.

Danse obviously also wanted to fuss but John being her ‘boyfriend’ had given John some kind of boss-hood over Danse. Ana couldn’t figure it out. Was it because Danse saw her as his new authority figure? Strong and Danse had a lot of the same mindset, when she thought about it...

So Danse left but looked moody about it. She waited until they were all gone to hug onto John and cry. She’d been too traumatized and stunned to cry when she first came back. Really cry, not those silent little wet trails. These were loud scream-sobs that she muffled into his chest. He wasn’t wearing his frock coat thing at the moment, he liked to change into ‘hard working man’ clothes when he came to Sanctuary, jeans and boots and the same flannel he’d let her wear when she’d arrived at the Old State House, looking for help. The material was soft from wear and she was soaking it with snot and tears.

She guessed this was mourning. For the son she’d lost. Forever.

She’d been holding it all together until now because she had to, she had to hold it together to find who killed her husband, find who took Shaun, find anyone responsible. And get her baby back. 

But there wasn’t anyone left for her to get revenge from.

Vault-tec was gone, she’d killed Kellogg but he was just a hired hand, and that hand hand morphed until it was her son’s hand. Her son, running her around the Commonwealth like a rat in a maze, watching her suffer, be nearly killed a thousand times. He could have sent someone to her this whole time, sent a courser to bring her to him. The whole time.

He could have prevented her from being raped. She would have never met the Brotherhood and their leader if it wasn’t for Shaun, if it wasn’t for Shaun, her baby boy, growing up and becoming a monster. The Institute had taken her son and done the worst thing possible, made him an unfeeling, remorseless, sadistic creature. Shaun was worse than Maxson. He watched torment everyday and did nothing to stop it. And then on top of that he oversaw a race of slaves.

Everything she’d been risking herself for...it lead to this. To a monster she gave birth to, that her breasts still waited to nurse again.

And The Institute. It was beautiful. People lived there in safety and cleanliness while people were being murdered above, while slaves cleaned up after them. It was beautiful there and her body ached to sleep in a clean bed, in utter safety, to wake up and shower with hot water. A primal need for safety was rumbling in her, trying to make excuses desperately so they could go back and never come out of The Institute again.

But she couldn’t crawl in there, she couldn’t leave all her friends, all these innocent people to die.

She was shaking against him. “They made a synth child. A child. Of Shaun. That’s who Nick saw Kellogg with. Shaun turned him off right in front of me. John, he’s a monster. My baby’s a monster.”

“Listen to me.” He squeezed her tightly. “You didn’t raise him. He’s your blood but he’s not your family. He’s not yours anymore. He’s a grown, adult man that never learned how to treat people right. Your responsibility for him is done, Ana.” He tilted her wet face up to have her look at him.

“I know it hurts bad. But at least you know. You can close that chapter of your life,” he said, thumbing her tears. “It’s done. You don’t have to keep looking anymore. You can just live.”

“Live?” She looked around her bedroom, the dilapidated place, the place she’d killed a radroach in just the other day. This run down, tetanus paradise. “John. I can’t live here. I would have lived for my baby, but I can’t now. Everything’s too...too much.”

“Ana. Just because you don’t have a baby doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be alive,” he said gently. “You don’t exist just to take care of a baby. I know that seems like it was driving you but other stuff has been driving you too. You’ve done so much for the Commonwealth. Look at what you’ve done, all the settlements, all the lives you’ve saved with the Railroad. That’s what you are. Someone who fights for justice. Just like when you were a lawyer, right? I bet you were thinking ‘I’m gonna save so many people, I’m gonna fight for justice’. Am I right?”

She swallowed down a sob and nodded. “Yeah.” That was exactly what younger-her had been thinking when she was in school. 

“That’s why I like you. You really go for justice,” he said quietly, smiling at her a little. “This isn’t the end for you. You’ve got a life. You’ve got stuff you feel passionate about. And you’re good at this. You’re good at living out here. You’ve done more in your short time out of that Vault than anyone I’ve ever heard of doing in their lifetime, sunshine,” he insisted, petting her hair out of her eyes.

She nuzzled her face into his hand and looked at his dark eyes, the ruddy apricot of his face. John was a good man.

“John,” she said voice a lot more pitiful and snot-filled sounding than she expected. She leaned in to kiss him but his hand teleported in front of her face, separating them. Or maybe it just felt that way because she was really slow with alcohol and fatigue.

He pushed her face away a little, smiling at her from behind it. “Kid, you’re about 80% booze right now. How about, if you even remember this later, you try that again when you’re sober and not extremely traumatized? Hm?”

Ana wanted to die all over again, humiliated. Coming onto your friend, your best friend, when you were drunk was pretty fucking low.

“You stay on the couch now, I’m gonna find you some chow,” he assured her, pulling a blanket up over her.

\---------

“They really don’t seem to mind, huh?” said John as she dropped another armful of raw aluminum onto the work bench.

She shook her head as she opened her bag and upturned it a trove of tweezers, spanners, microscopes, ear examiners and things she didn’t even recognize spilling forth from it. “Nope. They watch me put it right in my bag, they don’t care at all. I guess they have tons of it.”

John scratched the back of his neck, tilting his head as they both considered how lenient The Institute was with all her blatant stealing of their supplies.

“Maybe they think I’m like a wild animal. Undomesticated. Like ‘we can’t say anything because she’s a barbarian, she won’t understand’. I dunno.” This was her fourth back-and-forth today and she’d pretty much cleaned them out for the day. In a few days, items would be replaced and she’d just take them again.

“Maybe they’re really passive. Since they’ve been living down there and never fought for anything,” suggested John.

“Conflict avoidant,” she suggested, emptying her pockets of the pile of injectors she’d taken.

“Xactly. What’s that smell..?”

She froze for a moment in her unpacking before starting up again. “Um. It’s me. I took a shower. The shampoo was lilac scented.”

“What’s shampoo?” he asked, standing and coming to her.

“It’s specific soap for your hair.” God, this place. They didn’t know what shampoo was. She undid the bandana her hair was wrapped in and showed him, bending over for him. 

He stubbed out his cigarette to free up his hands and sunk them into her black waves. “It’s so soft...”

“I brought some back for you. You can’t tell anyone though,” she lowered her voice, finally righting herself. She braided and tied her hair back into place, which was also a lot easier with proper hair elastics. Really, she should shave the rest of it off. She’d shaved the sides when a gross bug had vomited something into it but she still had the middle bit. But it was nice to run her fingers through clean hair right now.

“I think they’ll know, seeing as how I’ll smell like a ‘lilac’,” he said it like it was a foreign word. She hadn’t seen any lilacs since coming out of the Vault, after all.

They hadn’t talked about her trying to kiss him.

——

“Higher up on that side, Danse,” she called, waiting for him to move the sheet of metal up before she started welding, her power armor protecting her from the sparks.

They along with John, Strong, Deacon and anyone else she could bully or coax were at the Charles View Amphitheater, a place she'd recovered from a scam cult. Ana was organizing the construction of an actual venue, so that there could be some entertainment in this place that wasn't fighting. It was conveniently located between Goodneighbor and Diamond City, too, so it wouldn't belong to either. But there was a lot of security that had to be added in order for this to work.

A massive concrete wall surrounding it with turrets was her first accomplishment. This was similar to how she designed settlements. Safety first, then you could fill it in.

There was a loud rend of metal and thud of concrete and when Ana turned, Danse was gone, buried in a pile of concrete and metal scaffolding. Normally not a problem if you had power armor on but Danse, as always, didn’t have his fucking helmet on his dumb head. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” said Hancock, coming over.

“Strong!” Ana yelled, summoning the super mutant with her voice that could boom when she needed it to. He came running and so did Deacon.

“Hey, Danse, you in there, buddy?” Deacon called warily. No answer.

Ana felt her heart in her throat. No. No.

“Strong, help me here, other side!” she yelled, stomping over in her power armor. Together they pulled off larger pieces as Deacon and Hancock grabbed smaller chunks. What was wrong with this concrete?? It was crumbly and weak.

“Danse?” She kept calling for him, the others chiming in.

He was sprawled on the grass, head gushing blood, red on green. John stimpacked him immediately as Ana scrambled out of her armor and got on her knees. “Danse, come on, you're okay now,” she cooed as the skin on his temple knit back together, leaning over him, eyes tracking back and forth across his face.

He stirred and there was an audible sound of relief. “Scared us there, buddy,” said Deacon, sitting down hard on the grass beside them. “Preston, can you take Danse back to my place in Diamond City? And get Doctor Sun to look at him?”

“On it, said Preston, hopping over a piece of scaffolding to run and get his coat.

“I'm fine now,” Danse said uncomfortably.

“I know but I don't like head injuries. Go rest, I'll see you when we've stopped for the day.”

____

They didn't stop until they lost the light.

Ana stepped out of her armor, feet kicking up sawdust. She needed to ask Codsworth to help her clean. Not that he ever let her help.

“Danse?” She called, then again but more gently as she saw him sitting on her fairly good couch, looking vulnerable in just his flightsuit. “Danse? How are you feeling?”

“I'm perfectly fine, my armor absorbed the majority of the impact...but because I lost consciousness, the doctor said I have to rest and see him again tomorrow,” he added begrudgingly, unable to lie to her.

She went and put her arms around his neck from behind, squeezing. She knew Danse liked physical contact and craved it but had never been in a position to get it, so she tried to hug and curl up with him as much as possible. She toyed with his hair a little, “Everyone was really happy you were okay. Even Hancock,” she said softly.

“I know.”

It was stuff like this that would make him see other people in a better light, everyone caring about him.

“Ana. There have been several times where I have thought I was going to die. I've been more than fine with it, to be honest. But this time...I wasn't fine with it. I wanted to live. And see you again,” he said quietly, taking her hand and kissing it like she was a princess. Her knight in shining power armor.

She swallowed and stared at him.

“I would like to see you. Romantically,” he added, in case it wasn't clear.

“I'm with John,” she blurted out. What kind of answer was that?! No she wasn't!

“No, you're not,” he said, looking at her with his slightly larger than expected eyes and long lashes.

“How did you know?” she tensed.

“He looks at you the way I do. Like he wants you but doesn't want to lose your trust. Like he'd do anything to show you that things won't break if you try to love again. Like he wishes he could make this place stop hurting you.”

Those were a lot of romantic things to say at once and he'd said them all to her actual face.

“I owe you so much. I hope you understand. I was...not a good person. Not to people who needed it. And you’ve made me better. I would like the opportunity to prove that to you.” Did she love Danse? She loved Nate, her mind filled in immediately. Yes, she loved Nate.

And who else? Anyone?

She loved all her friends deeply. She would die for them. She just didn't know if it was a romantic love. She had close calls with Hancock but how much of that was just pain? It only ever came out when she was in pain.

“If you’re not sure, we could try it. See if you like it,” he suggested at her stunned silence. Yeah, she’d forgotten to reply here.

“I just...I don’t know...I think...” she swallowed. It wouldn’t bother the others, she realized. Because they already thought she was with John and that had been fine. So maybe this was okay. But did she want to? She didn’t know! Shouldn’t she know? Wasn’t that a bad sign?

But Danse was....

If she was being honest, he was a lot like Nate.

Stiff but gentle, in love with duty and honor, they even looked a little alike. They could be relatives. 

And he had that same stilted way of wanting so much to touch and hold but the trappings of manhood made him hesitant.

“I think, you’re going through a lot right now,” she said, coming to sit next to him. “Your whole world is different. You like me because I’m...well I’m nice to you,” she said, reaching up to hold his face and smile at him. “I think not many people have been loving to you.” The Brotherhood was a sort of family, but it was a stern, cold family. A family that didn’t hug you.

“I know what that’s like. For there not to be anyone that’s nice to you. Honestly, since I woke up, this is the biggest number of friends I’ve ever had. So I think maybe we shouldn’t rush to the first gentle touch. We can be close. Really close. Without it being romantic. We can be family,” she told him, bringing his head nearer and kissing his forehead.

That was a mistake. When she was close he touched his nose to her cheek and she could feel him inhale, breathe her in like she smelled like fresh air and not sweat and construction work.

This was dangerous.

“Do you need something more than the platonic?” he asked in his weird, official voice. She laughed a little but it came out strange and breathy.

He was right. She did need to be loved that way. But by him?

“May I kiss you?”

She nodded. No, this was a terrible idea.

He put his hand over one of hers and turned his face to kiss it. It was startling, electric, she hadn't been kissed anywhere in so long. She melted.

He kissed her wrist and then slid and arm around her waist to pull her in to kiss her lips.

The feel of facial hair startled her, but the kiss was gentle, warm, and didn’t cross the boundary of her lips. She kissed him back, she had to, she had to figure this out. Did she like this? It felt amazing, but just because Danse felt amazing didn’t mean she should be with Danse. She opened her mouth for him, and he carefully tasted, explored, his grip on her squeezing. He had the manliest mouth in the world. Not that she’d kissed many mouths. But still.

She made a soft moan into it, and he kissed her harder, making a noise of appreciation in return. He didn’t try for more, the most he did was kiss her neck, pulling aside the collar of the Red Rocket mechanic jumpsuit she’d been wearing inside the power armor. Just a little bit. By the end of it here knees had a little tremble to them, fingers clutching the straps on his flight suit so tightly her knuckles were white, panting up at him. Her lips felt a little swollen, and she was out of breath. 

“Danse.”

“Yes?” he asked, his voice not huffy like hers at all.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” she whispered in alarm, clambering off the couch in a daze.

“Wait,” he said, starting to get up.

The relay sparked and she was in The Institute, outside her room.

“Ma’am?” asked X6, who had been standing there for some reason.

“I’m fine!” she said, rushing past him and shutting the door behind her.

\-----------

Ana had felt Danse’s large, squared fingers many times, she knew exactly how thick they were, so it was easy to imagine them plunging into her instead of her own fingers as she sprawled on her sweet smelling bed in The Institute.

It was so wet she could hear it, whining and panting into an extremely pristine pillow as her hips squirmed. Why hadn’t she slept with him? She was such a baby! She could be having him right now! She could be gripping the broad muscles of his back, his narrow hips between her thighs as he filled her over and over. 

But wouldn’t John be good too?

She shivered, thinking about the texture of him. What would those fingers feel like?

Missionary, she thought. He’d said he would stick to ‘missionary’ for a while. And then what? Then what would he want to do?

She didn’t know. Maybe something with drugs? Would he want her to do drugs with him? Or...anal? That one sounded impossible for her but then lots of people did it, according to Hancock. She hadn’t been able to determine, in their long sex talk, what exactly were the things he himself liked. Would he want her to put him in her mouth? She’d never done that with Nate. She hadn’t even known someone could be interested in licking her.

This was pathetic. She thoroughly destroyed her panties and she was fantasizing about a big question mark.

She pictured Danse, with his scratchy beard down there. And then Hancock with his rough lips and tongue.

Both. Both seemed extremely good, she thought weakly.


	4. Exhibit A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promised boning. but first! A review of A Streetcar Named Desire!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so now there's pictures! one is very explicit! hopefully this doesn't get me kicked off here or something?
> 
> also calmex is a real drug in the game, it's just not very common.

 

Cuddled against Hancock’s side, she and her friends watched Rex Goodman on the stage of her newly completed amphitheater. It was Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire and by the end of it Ana felt sick.

Hancock gripped her when the assault, though tastefully fade-to-blacked for the audience, happened. “You wanna go?” he had whispered.

She had shaken her head. “It’ll look bad.”

The mayor of Goodneighbor walking out of a play with Ana would look really, really bad for both them and for poor Rex and his players.

“Jesus,” she mumbled weakly as the curtain closed.

“Every character in that play should be shot,” said Piper, not mumbling at all. She and Piper were wearing matching sequined dresses, hers was black and Piper’s was red. The boys were wearing tuxes or pinstriped suits.

“I think Stella was the least horrible,” said Ana, now dealing with a headache. Her heart was pounding.

“That’s really the end?” MacCready was asking Deacon. “She just has to go live in an insane asylum?”

“Better there than with those creeps,” said Deacon, handing MacCready a drink. They’d become very cute friends.

“I guess?” MacCready replied, making an uncomfortable face.

“It was well acted,” Ana sighed, trying to find something positive in the play. Why couldn’t Rex have picked something a little less grim? He must have picked it because it was famous but more accessible than Shakespeare.

The man he’d cast as Stanley, the abusive rapist husband, bore a resemblance to Maxson, the same burliness to him. Maybe he didn’t look like him at all but there was something there enough that made her queasy.

“Let’s get out of here,” John said into her hair.

“Are you alright?” asked Danse before she could agree, touching her elbow.

“She just needs something to eat, we left in a hurry,” said John quickly.

Danse frowned, looking between her and John. He could tell John was lying but not why.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, I just need to head home.”

“Which home?” Danse asked quietly. A weird, loaded question.

“Goodneighbor’s closest,” she replied, feeling, no she didn’t know what she felt. Bad. Generally bad. And like the world was spinning, she felt feverish. This little exchange was upsetting Danse but she couldn’t even think about that because she might puke and that would really ruin the evening.

\-------

Laid out on his chaise, she exhaled heavily as John injected her with Calmex. John and a Minutemen escort had brought her back to the Old State House.

Kicking off her heeled shoes, she also pulled off the scarf she’d wrapped around her neck to cover her cleavage. Just the dress showing off her arms and back was a lot for her.

“I didn’t know the play was about that or I woulda’ made some excuse not to go. Or gotten that prick to do some other play,” Hancock said.

“Yeah, same. I had no idea,” she sighed as the drug flooded her bloodstream, watching his back as he got her some water from a pitcher.

Ana was an anxious cat now around him. She’d fantasized too much about Hancock and Danse and now she couldn’t look at them straight. The Calmex helped that too though.

“I’ve been fantasizing about you,” she heard herself saying. Oh no, Calmex, you betrayer...! Too calm! Too calm!

“Oh, yeah?” Hancock replied, not turning around.

“Yes.”

“What kinda fantasies?” he asked, filling another glass, this one for himself ostensibly.

“....sexual ones,” she said, not knowing what he wanted her to clarify there.

His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Okay. Cool.” He turned to her finally, holding their glasses of water. He looked good, tuxedo jacket off, the tie undone. Dashing. “So. You wanna act on said fantasies?”

“Yes,” she replied immediately, wide-eyed as he handed her the glass. She drank from it but kept her eyes on him.

“Cool,” he said again. “Because you look fucking amazing in that dress and I was havin’ a lotta impure thoughts myself.” He grinned, picking up her stockinged ankles and sitting down with them on his lap at the other end of the chaise.

“You an’ me’ve been doing a lotta romantic stuff lately,” he said, kissing her ankle and rubbing his thumb into the sole of one foot, extracting a soft moan. “I kinda figured it was gettin’ to you.”

“It is,” she said, surprised at how well he stated her problem.

“This can be a one-time thing if you want. Or it can be an ongoing thing. Or it can be a relationship thing, or-”

“Wait. What do you want, John?” she asked, looking serious which was difficult to do when someone was petting your calf muscle.

He smiled, looking at her foot with interest as he worked his thumb in. “I’d be grateful. No matter what it was.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Really. I think it’s kinda obvious I love you, sunshine. But love can mean a lotta stuff. And sometimes it can mean being boyfriend and girlfriend. And sometimes it means being there for each other. And sometimes it means eating out your friend when she needs it and not making a huge deal about it afterwards.”

“....’Eating out’?” she repeated.

He let out a breathy laugh. “I’ll show you.” He ran his hands up and down her stocking-encased legs. Even though she was tingling at the idea that they were going to do “impure” things to each other, in practice she felt shy about him looking at her so much. She kept squeezing her thighs shut so he couldn’t see up her dress.

“You’re so shy...” he cooed, putting her legs on either side of himself and crawling up to her. He kissed her mouth and jaw and neck. Slow and loving. She moaned into it, vibrating with how much she wanted him. His kissing promised all sorts of things she didn’t have names for.

Her hands had been up under her chin, still trying to cover the expanse of skin above her breasts and he gently took hold of her wrists, drawing aside first one and then the other, kissing a palm. He groaned at just the sight of her cleavage, which was surprising but she guessed he got to see so little of her that this was enticing.

He put her wrists up by her head and reached under her to unfasten her bra, pausing to kiss the swell above the sequins, “You’re trembling,” he whispered. “You need it real bad, baby?”

She swallowed, “Y-yes,” she stammered out.

“It’s okay, baby,” he cooed, peeling down the straps of her bra and dress. “It’s okay. I’m gonna give you everything you need.” Her breasts spilled out, nipples instantly going hard. He massaged one with his craggy fingers, catching her mouth with his and kissing her again, harder. Was this what he meant by eating out? It felt like he was eating out her mouth, it was so wanting and thorough.

She jumped when he felt between her legs, even with her panties still in the way. “I want to rip these off of you,” he admitted.

“Please don’t,” she said, alarmed.

He rested his arm on the back of the chaise and laughed into it, his upper body shaking.

She frowned. “They’re my favorite pair!”

He nodded and wiped a tear from his eye as he tried to control himself. He toyed with the clasps that attached her stockings to their waistband. He had to unhook them if he wanted to get her panties off so she wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Instead he brushed his fingers against her through the thin black fabric and she made a little whimper into his shirt.

“You’re so wet,” he purred, plucking at the fabric and peeling it to the side with it sticking along the way. Using his rough fingers he stroked at her slit, making her quake, “Can you take a finger? Wow, smooth,” he said against the top of her head as she hid her face in his chest, stroking inside of her.

She was so wet his finger had met no resistance whatsoever. “How about two, can you take two already? Oh a little tighter?” he murmured, a quiet wet noise starting as he started to thrust with his middle and ring fingers. He drew them out for a moment and swirled the wet tips of his fingers over her clit, making her give a small cry, fingers locked tightly into the fabric of his shirt, on the brink of ripping it.

“Shhh shh,” he coaxed, sliding the fingers back in. “You like that? Is that what you like?”

She shuddered and whimpered as he pet her walls with gnarled fingertips, “Y-yes. John,” she called, starting to whine his name.

He coaxed her out of hiding in his chest for a moment. “Lay back, lay back for me, let me see your face.”

She couldn’t have looked very attractive, she was red-faced and near tears from the strain but he made a soft purr of desire. Whatever floats your boat, Hancock.

He licked his scarred and twisted tongue in a line down her chest, finding one of her nipples with his mouth, Ana gasped and squeezed his thrusting fingers in response.

“Mhn?” He made a surprised little noise and when she opened an eye to look his mouth was open and there was a bit of white liquid on his tongue.

Ana’s eyes widened, mortified. He had sucked on her enough to milk her! “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” she apologized, not even sure why she was sorry. It wasn’t like it was a secret she’d had a baby.

Hancock shut his mouth in a smile. “Hey, I’m not complaining, I like it...”

“You like it?!” she repeated.

 

“Yeah,” he affirmed, refastening his mouth to her breast and starting to suck and lick again, his hand between her legs restarting, having paused for this little lactation discussion.

She didn’t know what to think about it! Was that messed up?!

Well.

It felt nice. So. Maybe she should relax.

Thanks, Calmex.™

He toyed with the catches of her stockings again.

“Do you....need h-help getting them off?” she asked amid squirming.

“Oh! Heh, no. I just really like how they look. But I have to take them off to get your panties off...”

She laughed a little. He liked her garters? “Here,” she said, disentangling herself from him, shivering when his fingers withdrew. She stood, pulling her dress up around her waist so she could see what she was doing. Nails clicking on the clasps, she unfastened her stockings, which fell immediately, and then pulled off her panties, the lacy things soaked and needing to be pulled free from her.

Unsure of where to put them, she dropped them on the surgical tray that John had brought the Calmex over on. Then, propping her foot up on the chaise, she began pulling her stockings back up. She looked over at John and almost jumped.

His pants were open and he was stroking himself.

“Oh.”

He shrugged. “You accidentally did a strip tease for me, I think.”

“I’m putting the stockings back on!” Ana protested.

“And it looks really good.”

Despite the fact that they were in the middle of what was probably going to be sex, she felt shy about looking directly at him. At his cock, rather.

“You can look,” he murmured.

She swallowed and looked. There was gnarled texture to him that she wasn’t expecting. Her breathing sped up. He was thick. Bigger than Nate had been. She didn’t have a lot of points of reference here. Had Nate been small? Was Hancock average? Nate hadn’t felt small. But she had no idea how average her own dimensions were. She was a larger than average woman so who knew if that corresponded to her interior.

“You’re frozen,” he pointed out.

She had stopped messing with her stockings completely, just staring. “I just...are you average?” she asked, quickly finishing up her stocking arrangement.

He glanced down at himself with an arched eyebrow and then back up at her. “I will say I’m above-average. Why, disappointed?”

“No! No, I just, you’re bigger than-I don’t have a lot of experience,” she flushed. “I was just wondering.”

He stood and put an arm around her waist and turning her around. He unzipped her dress and let it slide to the floor, kissing a shoulder. “It’s okay. I don’t mind being your health teacher. I am, without any joking around, a bit on the bigger side.” He put rested his hands on her stomach, speaking against her shoulder. “But I’m gonna work you open so it won’t hurt or nothin’. I promise. Anything hurts or you don’t like it, you tell me. Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.” She could feel him, pulsing and hot against the back of one of her thighs. “John. I want to make you feel good, too. What sorts of things do you like?”

“Trust me, I’ve been doin’ stuff I like.” He pressed more flush against her and she could feel the head of him was leaking a little. “See? Baby, fucking is pretty fucking good, even when everyone’s not too great at it, it still feels pretty good.”

She turned. They didn’t normally stand face to face, so it was a little startling to see how much shorter he was, his mouth more level with her collarbone. “But won’t you be bored? With...’missionary’?”

“I will die happy with just mi-”

“Do you want me to suck on you?”

“Holy shit,” he said, lifting his hands off of her, looking like she’d tossed cold water on him.

“Let me suck on you,” she said firmly.

He kept his hands up like she was holding a gun on him, “Baby, you can do whatever you want to it, there’s no ‘let’ here. Do you know how?”

“Not at all,” she said.

He laughed at her grave, but determined face. “Okay. Okay. Here, get on the chaise-”

“Is this chaise for sex?” she asked suddenly. “Is this a sex chair?”

He looked around in alarm. “Baby, it came with the place! It’s useful for this kinda thing but no, it’s not like, expressly commissioned for sex. For your information, I don’t usually fuck here.”

“What?!” She kind of pictured Hancock having orgies here.

“I got another place. One of the warehouses. You know, keep business and pleasure separate.”

“So should we-”

“Baby, I will fuck you on the Prydwen if that’s where you got wet. All bets are off right now,” he promised, kissing her hand with a laugh.

“Oh, okay,” she relented, coming to settle between his thighs on the chaise while he sat up.

“So...pretty much, just don’t bite it. And even then, running your teeth on it a tiny bit can be nice. But just don’t bite and anything else you do is pretty good. Ah...like that is pretty good,” he groaned as she started mouthing around the head, and then the length and base. She left kisses at first, charmed by the clean taste of it.

Looking up at him, she put her lips around the head carefully, sucking at it lightly. It was salty at the opening, but not terrible. She stroked her fingers up and down the length of him, watching him but he was just watching her back with half-lidded eyes.

“Wrap your fingers around the base,” he murmured, “Then pump...here give me your hand.”

She did and after a few kisses to her palm, licked into it, making her ticklish. He sucked on the fingers, coating them and then letting her return her hand to him. It was smoother to stroke him with her hand slick. She put the top portion of him in her mouth again, bobbing her head a little when instructed. Hancock’s voice was getting tight and she loved it. She liked hearing that she had a reaction from him.

She was surprised she couldn’t get more in her mouth. Did she have a small mouth??? Weren’t people able to fit all of it in? She tried a little more and immediately gagged on it, which made Hancock come a little, surprising her.

She pulled back, looking at him and he looked back, flushed.

“You okay?” he asked, petting her face, it seemed a little difficult for him to function right now.

“You liked that?” she asked, wiping her mouth.

He made an uncomfortable face. “It felt good but-”

“I can do it again-”

“Don’t! Don’t! Shit...you’ll choke yourself!”

“Maybe if I held my breath-”

“No, you’re supposed to breathe through your nose! Just...that’s a thing, gagging on a cock is a thing,” he allowed, “But that’s not beginners stuff. That’s- don’t you give me that determined look!”

She frowned. “I finally found something you like that I can do.”

He put his face in his hands. “I like other things, Ana! Not just someone-” His hands leapt from his face and grasped the couch. “Shit!” he gasped as she went back to trying to stuff him into her throat.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed each time her throat complained with soft ‘glk’ noises, sucking and clutching around the top of his head. The strain made tears flick into her eyes and her face bright red.

“Okay, okay,” he panted, pulling her face off him. “Let me see your tongue, baby,” he cooed, holding her cheek, and she obediently opened her wet mouth. In a few strokes of his other hand, he spattered cum on her face and waiting tongue. “Fuck, baby,” he cooed before kissing her mouth, tasting himself. “You’re so good. Are you ok?”

Her vision was a little blurry as she replied breathlessly. “Yes. Yes, I liked it,” she told him as he kissed at her wet lashes. “I’m-I’m really wet.”

“Oh, honey...” he groaned, kissing her deeply as he felt down between her legs to find her dripping. “You like gagging on my cock? You like that?”

“Yes,” she moaned as he played with her swollen body.

“Oh, good girl,” he purred at her and she shivered. He got on the floor by the chaise and got her thighs over his shoulders. “Let me show you something nice,” he promised.

Now Ana understood what eating out was. It involved her screaming into a pillow a lot. He left her not sure if she’d ever orgasmed properly before now, a sweaty, trembly mess, weepy with want.

“John. John, please. Please,” she begged, all of her aching for him.

“‘Please’ what, baby?” he asked, kissing at her thighs, clutching handfuls of her ass and massaging.

“Make love to me,” she mewled. “Please.”

Pausing, he looked up at her for a moment, like he was seeing her again suddenly and smiled a tiny bit, climbing up to her face. “Okay,” he promised, kissing her forehead. “Okay. Okay, we’ll make love.” He put their foreheads together as he stroked her nub with his tip, eliciting a flurry of more desperate begging before he shushed her with kisses. Finally he pressed in, and she watched him watching her before she had to shut her eyes. Her body hugged him inside her, legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close.

“Ah! John!” she mewled, clutching his back, hiding her face in his chest again. He was still dressed, really, just his cock out. She should have undressed him.

He growled a little as he started thrusting into her, filling her over and over. Her hips bucked, liking the feeling of him pulling out and plunging in but also hating it when he wasn’t all the way inside. He held onto the chaise above her head, using it as leverage to work his hips.

“You feel so good,” she said, sounding way more emotional about it than she expected. She felt so relieved, like two hundred years of tension was being released.

He was starting to strike that place that he’d been touching before with his fingers, and another orgasm arched her back and made her spasm around him, making him hiss. “John,” she cried as she came down.

“Shit,” he groaned, still pumping and making her jolt every now and then with aftershocks.

He started to pull out but her legs were still locked around him. She made a childish whine like he was taking a favorite toy away. “I’m going to come,” he told her.

“Come in me,” she begged. “Please. I like feeling it.”

“Okay,” he assured her holding the side of her face. “Okay. Anything you want, baby,” he said between gritted teeth as he sped up. She felt him twitch and expand for a glorious split second as he came in her, grabbing her lips with his and kissing her hard.


	5. Unreliable Witness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sole Survivor has some realizations.

"...the problem is I feel sexually attracted to both of them, and I like both of them a lot. But it just doesn’t feel the same as when I was head over heels for Nate. That’s all I have to go on, you know, that’s the only other time I’ve been really, really in love.”

“That sounds difficult, ma’am. It’s possible it’s simply too soon for you after the death of your husband for you to become romantically involved, in spite of how strongly you feel for both of them. Similar to nerves that have been traumatized. They need time to heal and while they are healing they send confusing, incorrect signals to the brain. And in the meantime, you are a person that craves physical contact and stimulation. You only conflate sexual desire and romantic love because in the time period you are from, it was considered taboo to separate them. You’re also under incredible amounts of stress, so the desire to release tension is massive.”

Ana sat up from where she’d been miserably flopped on her bed. “X6. You’re amazing.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, taking a sip of water. He was sitting in her room at The Institute. He was kind of her designated bodyguard. She really liked him! He was very considerate! More than he had to be. And he was somehow full of good advice.

“No really, you’re really smart. That makes complete sense. But...still, what do I do?” she asked, hugging a pillow to her chest.

“Establish, firstly, with both that you only desire sexual stimulation from them. I believe the term is ‘fuck buddies’.”

She gasped, hearing him curse. “It sounds amazing when you curse!”

“Thank you, ma’am. Secondly, establish that you want to be able to have more than one ‘fuck buddy’ and inform them of who the other party is. Though it seems they already known.”

“I don’t think Danse would like that,” Ana said, flushing. She did feel....like not a good person for just wanting sex. Even though she knew lots of people were like that and she didn’t feel like they were bad people.

“Did he say that?”

“No, but he just seems like it.”

He seemed like Nate.

“If that’s the case, then Danse is not suitable for you,” said X6. “Which solves the problem. There is another solution.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m fully capable of stimulating you to climax.”

Ana narrowed her eyes. “....Is anyone making you stimulate them?”

“No, ma’am. I’m a courser. Coursers are not usually used in such a manner.”

Used!!! Usually!!! “So some coursers are?” she asked slowly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He adjusted his sunglasses. “But I’m not programmed to offer it, if that’s your concern. I made my own calculation and it fits within my protocols to serve you.”

She grimaced. “Eughh, no. I mean, you’re really attractive. Very. You could be a model. I mean a fashion model. But I don’t like that someone could just make you have sex with them. Even if you’d be ok with it being me. It feels creepy. I um...someone made me sleep with them when I couldn’t say ‘no’,” she explained, laying back down on the bed to stare at the ceiling again.

“Someone assaulted you,” he said, it wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” There was that tension in the air like when she’d told John. She could feel his muscles tightening and he was across the room.

“Who was this?”

She guessed it didn’t matter now. “The guy in charge of The Brotherhood of Steel. Elder Maxson.”

“My records indicate that he’s deceased,” he said, sounding mildly confused.

“Yeah.”

“You executed him?”

“Yeah. They don’t know I did it, but yeah.”

X6 came to sit beside her on the bed. “You should tell Father.”

She craned her neck to look at his face. “You’re not going to?”

“No, this is too personal of a matter.”

How much of this was programming and how much of this was his choice?

“Why should I tell him?”

“He should be aware of who killed the Elder. And even if you don’t decide to tell him, speak to Doctor Volkert, he can assign you a therapist. This is not something that should be left unchecked. Even without this incident, you have been traumatized many times from the moment the first bombs fell.”

A therapist. The Institute had therapists. Someone she could speak to, that could help her. She’d just had a panic attack the other day, and she’d treated it with a semi-random street drug. She could get real drugs. Alprazolam. Buproprion. Lamotrigine. Actual drugs from an actual doctor.

“I....I’ll do that, X6. Thank you. May I hug you?” she asked.

He nodded. He wasn’t bad at hugging at all.

Oh God. X6 was a person, wasn’t he? She thought the coursers were synths that were actually just robots, like the older generation ones she saw around but with better AI and way better casing. They spoke in such stilted ways and were so perfectly subservient she’d been fooled.

She had to do something for him.

\--------

“Oh, come on!” groaned MacCready.

“He’s a person!” said Ana. They were in her living room in Sanctuary, Deacon, Danse and MacCready sharing a meal.

Deacon was running a hand through his non existent hair, his tell that he was really frustrated. “Ana, synths are people. And just like people, some synths are assholes. And the assholes don’t deserve saving.”

Ana stood up. “He can’t help it! He has a courser chip in his head! He’s on a tighter leash than most synths! And he’s so sweet!”

“Do you know how many synths he’s taken back?!” Deacon said, standing as well.

MacCready evaporated out of the room.

“I cannot believe I’m arguing with you about this! You! All of them deserve freedom!”

“We don’t have to give it to the asshole ones! He’s a slave catcher!”

“He deserves a second chance!”

That last bit made his jaw click shut. Deacon knew a thing or two about being a repulsive asshole and needing a second chance. He still obviously disagreed here though.

“As the only synth currently in the room,” said Danse, voice quiet. “I would say that X6 needs to indicate that freedom is something he wants. Trying to save someone that doesn’t think they need saving is dangerous, Ana.”

Ana’s shoulders fell. She thought Danse would have supported her. “They use some of them like sex toys,” she said, voice quavering. “Even the coursers.”

Deacon let out a breath.

“You knew that already,” she realized.

He nods. “Yeah, boss. Creeps are everywhere.”

Ana turned and put her forehead against her living room wall. “I hate this. Every day I’m there...I feel like I’m condoning it. That I’m a part of them. It’s so easy to get comfortable. They’re so...so safe and clean. I just...I just want that for everyone else.”

“But it’s only possible with slave labor,” said Danse, gently taking her from her position against the wall and into his arms.

They have therapists there. With actual medication, she thought as she rested her head on Danse’s shoulder.

“Not right now but they didn’t always have synths, there has to be a way. What they have is what I envisioned the future to be like, what I should have woken up to after two hundred years. Everyone deserves that, deserves safety and clean water and clean food.”

“Ana,” murmured Danse. “Does it seem like we would all fit down there?”

“No,” she admitted, “I barely fit. They’re crowded, out of space...”

Danse held the side of her face. “I used to live in a place called Rivet City. A city built out of an old boat. I say city but it was nothing. A few families had some precious safety, there were just so few settlements...and everyone was always pushing to get in. You’re building cities, cities large enough for anyone to come, you're always expanding and welcoming, Ana. What you’re doing is...more appropriate.”

But they chose to play God instead. Her child chose to play God.

She hadn’t told them what Shaun had told her. That he wanted her to succeed him. Could she bring The Institute to the rest of the Commonwealth? Really rebuild? Or was that life only possible when you could abduct and murder people? Couldn’t she have them cease production on the sentient synths, only build the simpler robots?

And why hadn’t she told them?

Probably the same reason she hadn’t told Danse she’d slept with Hancock. Or told Hancock she’d kissed Danse, despite X6’s very good advice.

She was a bad person.

She had to handle this.

\-------

Sitting on a bench out by the razorgrain field, MacCready passed her a beer. “Sorry I left, I just I don’t got a stake in that stuff. It’s kinda...big. And you and Deacon don’t really fight so...it was kinda...”

She sighed. Yeah. It was big. And somehow she’d come out of that Vault and all of this was on her. Literally. The fate of the Commonwealth was on her and she’d barely been here.

She passed the beer back after a swig.

This wasn’t fair. She’d just wanted her baby back. And now she could never have him back. And along the way everyone have pinned every single hope on her.

At least The Brotherhood seemed to be functioning on its own. Proctor Ingram had become the defacto Elder and she was a lot less anti-synth it seemed and Ana had a much easier time talking to her about The Brotherhood making a positive impact on the Commonwealth.

She looked at MacCready out of the corner of her eye, feeling a bitterness rise up. It must be nice to be able to tap out.

“Uh. So Danse,” said MacCready, lowering his voice.

She shut her eyes. “What did he say to you this time?”

“Actually,” he scooted closer on the bench. “He apologized.”

She looked at him so fast she almost got whiplash. “What!”

“He apologized to me!” he repeated, like he couldn’t believe it himself. “You know, for...being an as--jerk all the time.”

She sat there stunned.

“I know!” MacCready said. “He said...I mean he kind of said really intense things. Like really earnest and intense stuff, too.”

That sounded like Danse.

“I just...” Nate would have never apologized, her mind mentioned for some reason. “Wow.”

“I think he’s doing that with everyone. I know he did it with Hancock. He’s gotten kinda...I dunno, chill about stuff. Kinda zen.”

With Hancock?!

“It was crazy, we talked and stuff. For the first time, like, ever. I didn’t know he was from the Capital Wasteland, too. We must have seen each other bunches of times. I went to the city he was in all the time. Did you know he used to be a trader?! Can you picture him behind a fruit stand or whatever? It’s nuts.”

It was nuts.

\----------

“Oh. My. God.” Ana gaped, staring around in awe.

“I thought you might like some place outside The Institute since you’re very hands on with the Commonwealth,” said X6, politely removing his shoes and coat at the door, helping her out of hers.

“I have...I have places,” she stammered, keeping behind him as if she were terrified and wanted his protection from what she was seeing.

It was a penthouse.

An immaculate, well appointed, penthouse. It looked like it was styled as if it was from her era but wasn’t, it had better..everything.

Everything was rich dark wood and it smelled incredible. Or maybe that was the absence of smell??

“Some place more suitable for the future leader of The Institute,” X6 clarified as she finally started coming out from behind him. It was like another world, she wanted to weep at how perfect it was. “We call it the Noir Penthouse. Since it’s in this style. It seemed appropriate for you.”

“Washers and dryers,” she gasped when he opened a door. She ran over and hugged one. PLURAL. More than one set somehow!

“All the water is purified and the showers have a decontamination mode if you have rad sickness.”

She spun on her heels suddenly. “You said ‘I’,” she said, eyes wide. “You said ‘I thought you might like’. This is all you, isn’t it? Father didn’t think of this, you did.”

X6 tilted his head at her. “You appeared yesterday in urgent need of medical care because you have contracted a parasite. You have been under incredible stress and when you come to The Institute you usually only sleep, sometimes for up to 24 hours. You sleep well because you know you are safe and also because you’re depressed. But The Institute itself causes you stress, I thought this an appropriate compromise. It’s impossible to come here without the relay, there is no exterior entrance. Privacy, yet safe. Somewhere for you to recover from your traumas.”

Ana hugged him tightly. “Thank you. Thank you so much, X6.”

“My pleasure, ma’am,” he said, squeezing her in return.

\-------------

There was no exterior door but there were windows. Windows with blast proof, rad proof glass, that from the outside looked like solid metal, but windows nonetheless.

She was going to get one of those windows open.

But in the meantime she was shoving any and everyone’s clothes into the heavy-duty machines relaying back with them once they were clean. She kept this up until Preston shook her.

“You are not a laundromat! You have more important things to do thant wash everyone’s clothes!”

She blinked at him but then smiled, adjusting his very crisp collar. “But you look so nice...”

“I’m serious,” he groaned. “I appreciate-” he lowered his voice to a whisper, blushing, “I appreciate the clean underwear, everyone does, but we will survive without it. We need your gun, your mind.”

Ana huffed, looking out at Sanctuary and her very clean looking settlers. She herself was wearing a laundered light blue dress, looking extremely housewife-y. “Fine,” she sighed. “I’ve been taking one apart, Maybe I can figure out how to start building them...I have to stop anyways, Codsworth hates when I do laundry.”

Her Mr. Handy had been mopey ever since she’d brought back a fresh smelling load. Even when she brought things back unfolded so he could fold them, he was still very put out.

“Just enjoy the penthouse. You’re the only one that can, so enjoy it,” he said, rubbing her arms. “Oh, hey Hancock showed up, I told him to wait in the living room with Danse.”

“Oh good! Thanks!” She was glad they were both in the same place at the same time but also this was awful because they were in the same place at the same time.

“You’re here,” she said in a rush when she entered.

Danse was wearing a blazer and slacks and button up shirt, Hancock was in his usual.

 

“Ha! Look at you! You look like one of those homemaker magazines. Picket Fences,” Hancock said. She took his cigarette out of his hand and stubbed it out.

“Yes, I’m a happy homemaker and if you get cigarette smoke in my new curtains I will find every cigarette in the Commonwealth and throw them into the sea.”

“Harsh,” he complained mildly.

“You look beautiful,” Danse said quietly.

“Okay, that’s....what I want to talk about.” she blushed. “This whole, um, thing,” she sat on an ottoman, her dress fluffing out around her. She swallowed down at the dryness in her throat.

“I...I don’t think I can love anyone romantically right now. I just...I need time. I just can’t. I might not be capable of it. I love you both but I think....I think I’ve been using you both. I’m lonely. I like being touched and being affectionate with you. I like petting you and kissing you. But there’s something...” she looked down at her hands. “Something inside me that’s small and hard that can’t...can’t be someone’s.”

Hancock sighed a little. “Ana, I told you. If you want it to be just sex, friendly sex between two people who care about each other, it can be that. I get there’s a difference,” said John. “If you wanna bang Danse, go do it. I just...” he scratched the back of his neck. “Honestly, I just want you to chill out. I keep telling you it can be that way and I think you don’t hear me cuz you’re freaked out it’ll,” he shrugged. “Make you slutty or something. Baby, there’s no authority out here. It’s the wild west. You’re not gonna get in trouble with anyone if you bang me, Danse, Mac, Piper, all in the same day. Hell, chuck in Strong while we’re at it.”

Well.

Now that she thought about it, Hancock had literally told her that was fine with him several times. How had she not heard him?

But Danse. She looked at him.

“And...I slept with Hancock,” she said quietly.

Danse inhaled a little and Ana waited for the anger to blast over her.

Because Danse was like Nate. He wouldn’t approve. She wanted Danse to approve because she wanted Nate to approve. And Nate never would have. Nate would have called her a slut, divorced her. And Danse-

“Ana, I assumed you had.”

She stared at him.

“I love you,” he said. “I want you to be happy.” He came and kissed her hand. “Just because I’m more...inexperienced and hesitant about these things, that doesn’t mean I think badly of you. I would never think badly of you. One of my heroes, Sarah Lyons, was notorious for her sexual conquests.”

Danse.

He wasn’t like Nate at all, was he? Why had she thought that?

Her eyes were wet as he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

“You don’t have to see me romantically. If this is you saying ‘no’, then I’m not--did you think I would get angry with you?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Yes,” she said, her voice hoarse.

Because Nate would have.

He would have gotten angry with her for showing Hancock her tattoo.

Because Nate had called her a slut when she’d laughed too much with the guy at the deli counter.

Because Nate would ask who she was showing off for if she wore a tank top in the summer.

“I suppose that comes as no surprise. I’ve done nothing but judge people harshly since you’ve met me. I understand. But for all my faults, that’s never been a part of me, Ana,” Danse was saying.

She really had been confusing him with Nate, all this time.

The night they’d kissed she hadn’t been pulling away from Danse.

She’d been pulling away from Nate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Noir Penthouse is a real thing! From the Creation Club! It’s amazing! it's a little disorienting because it's so amazing! I never wanted to leave!! Man I think I should have just called her Nora but I hate the name Nora.
> 
> Sorry about Nate! I just figured if you're a dude from that kind of pseudo time period, 99% chance you're gonna be a pile of steaming garbage.


	6. Witness Tampering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think maybe I'm terrible at writing Danse. I'm having a hard time with this thing in general.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, putting her arms around Danse’s neck, thoroughly interrupting him. “All this time-- I made a lot of assumptions about you.”

Danse looked at her in confusion though he’d put his arms around her. “What kind of assumptions?”

“You...you look a lot like my husband. And you were both military men. And I kept thinking you-- for me it hasn’t been 200 years. I forgot that people have...gone forward,” Ana was trembling and was having a hard time putting her thoughts together for him. “I thought you’d call me a slut and I couldn’t-couldn’t separate you. I couldn’t stand it if you were mad at me because it was like making Nate mad at me and...” She probably wasn’t making sense now.

Danse rubbed a hand up and down her back. “I didn’t realize I reminded you of him. But what are you saying? About your husband?” He looked over at Hancock for help.

“Kid, are you saying your husband called you a slut sometimes?” he asked, voice level and cool. In that moment she could tell Hancock hated Nate as of this moment, like lightning he’d snapped into having a completely different understanding of him.

“Just when he thought-- he got jealous sometimes. And he didn’t like when I showed a lot of skin,” she said quickly.

Danse took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. “I understand he was from a different time period...but to me that’s no excuse. That’s a terrible thing to call anyone, let alone the woman you’re wed to. But Ana...” he put their foreheads together. “I don’t mind if you show skin. Or if you sleep with a million people. Please understand that. I only become nervous when your suit is a little unzipped because it’s--extremely enticing to me. And I was striving to remain professional with you. You were a subordinate and that kind of interaction is strictly prohibited.”

So it _was_ prohibited. She’d wondered about that, if Maxson was breaking policy. It seemed like he had been.

“But now it’s not prohibited,” Ana said. Because Danse was exiled.

“Now it’s not,” Danse repeated. “So I’d like to court you. See you. Openly.”

She looked at John. “I’m-” She was about to say ‘I’m with John’ but Danse already knew she wasn’t.

Danse furrowed his brow. “You’re not. Why have you two been pretending this? I don’t understand.”

“It’s personal,” said Ana.’

“She’s helping me out,” said Hancock at the same time.

Danse looked between them. “What is it that you can’t tell me?” he asked.

“I killed Elder Maxson,” Ana said, her voice steady.

His eyes opened wide and he looked at her with a kind of horror she’d never seen before. “Because of me?” He pulled away from her.

Hancock immediately took his place, trying to protect her from this conversation, pulling her close. This made the expression on Danse’s face go queasy with confusion and maybe he already understood.

“I’d already decided to kill him before that.” Hancock’s grip on her was anxious, stroking her hair the way you stroked a cat when you were trying to calm yourself down.

“What did he do?” There.  At least he was assuming Maxson did something.

“He was inappropriate with me.” She didn’t know why she kept saying it so strangely. She’d only been able to tell X6 outright because at the time she thought she was speaking to a glorified toaster oven, not a Gen 3 synth.

Danse sat down on the couch, staring off into the middle distance.

“Danse?”

He seemed to come back to them from wherever he’d gone, looking back at her. “I was there. It was when you came out in a uniform.”

She nodded, Hancock’s grip on her tightened.

“Why didn’t you-- I would have-- if you’d yelled for me,” he said desperately.

Ana recoiled but she was in Hancock’s arms and couldn’t really go anywhere.

“Don’t you fucking blame her for this,” Hancock spat.

“I’m-- I’m not. I’m not,” Danse said quickly.

“Danse. What could have happened? You come in and fight him off of me? I’m barely in The Brotherhood. He would have pulled back his support from the settlements, taken my power armor. No one would have believed me.”

“I would have!” Why did he look so desperate?

“I didn’t know that,” she said, her voice hoarse. “You loved The Brotherhood so much. You loved _him_ so much. And there were other knights there--”

“She does _not_ have to explain her reasoning to you,” Hancock snapped.

“Of course,” said Danse, shoulders falling, looking pale. “Of course, I’m sorry. Of course.”

“I’m her alibi,” Hancock said firmly. “‘She couldn’t have done it, she was bangin’ a ghoul at the time’.”

Danse nodded, pushing his palms against his eyes and grasping his head. “And if people see her with me, they’ll think she did it for me. I understand. Ana, I’m so sorry. I brought you to him. And I don’t...I don’t think you were the only one.”

He described when he’d been sent to retrieve a Scribe named Golding. Scribe Haylen had taken him aside and told him not to leave Golding in there with Maxson. And if he had to, say something about Golding having to be somewhere in a few minutes. He’d assumed Golding was just nervous around Maxson. Lots of people were. Until this moment, he’d thought Haylen was too.

Ana thought of Haylen, her dainty hands, long neck and red hair. Delicate, pale features. Nothing like Ana. Haylen would have been so small against Maxson and her eyes burned wet, furious, wishing she could kill him all over again.

\----

“This is your husband? My condolences,” said X6-88.

In Vault 111, Ana looked at Nate, still frozen, looking like he was asleep.

She sat on the floor, staring. Nate had been trying to protect their baby, refusing to let a stranger take Shaun when he’d been shot. He’d died doing something heroic. He’d done lots of heroic things, rescued other soldiers. He had medals.

Nate had told her that she meant something. That she had value. He was her hero.

And he’d never hit her.

Was that because he was a good man or because he knew it was a line she wouldn’t tolerate?

But she’d tolerated the screaming, the names, the insults, all the words about her body, the possessiveness.

She stood. “Would you help me carry him, X6? I’d like to bury him today.”

\----------------

“So what's wrong with my concrete?” She asked the engineer named Caroline.

“Well, first of all, what you brought me from the Amphitheater is not concrete. The mix is all wrong,” she said, handing over a holotape of her findings and pushing her glasses up her very cute nose.

“What about stuff from the other settlements?”

“Standard concrete. Look here.” She showed Ana to a screen with a side by side comparison of the chemical and structural breakdown of her different samples, each labeled a according to where they had come from. Even Ana could see the difference.

“This difference is in the binding agent here and here. You're lucky it hasn't caused more trouble for you. I suggest you watch the mixing process personally and take any weight off of what you've made if you can.”

“I ended up taking walls from somewhere else for the Amphitheater,” Ana told The Institute engineer. “So it should be OK.”

“Wise decision,” she smiled a little. “I can see why Father trusts you. He said we needed a leader and I think you really might be one. Building an amphitheater...that's smart. I wish we had one.”

Ana's gave brightened, “Caroline! You can come to ours! You can sneak up there with me,” she whispered.”Is there a play you've always wanted to see? I can get them to do it!” It was, technically, her venue after all.

Caroline's eyes positively shimmered. “I...I don't have anything to wear...” She whispered back, going along with it way more easily than Ana had expected.

“I will absolutely get you something.” She stood back, taking her in. Caroline had dark skin and black-brown hair pulled back into a large puff. Ana thought she'd look great in yellow. Ana would get the woman at Fallon’s Basement to make the damn thing if she had to.

\------

This would be the first time she and Danse would sleep together. She wanted it to be special for him and so she had sat between him and Hancock for the play, every now and then touching his palm with a fingertip.

It was like a secret date. With both of them.

Twelve Angry Men had been a tall order. Rex had to do a talent search for a lot of extra players, but he was obviously thrilled to do it.

And the roaring applause was catnip for him.

She hooked her arm around Caroline’s, elbow to elbow. Caroline looked adorable in her yellow dress and Ana thought maybe it might be a problem because she was getting attention. So Ana stuck close to her, warning off anyone that would come near and ask questions about the stranger she’d brought. Next time she’d have someone come as her date. She could bully Preston, she bet.

But her cuteness was so appealing to Ana! It’d been a long time since she’d seen a woman so cute and Ana liked looking at her very much. “Did you enjoy the show?” she asked even though she knew the answer.

“It was amazing,” Caroline gushed. “I’ve read it before but I’ve never seen it, and it was so much better in person. It was electric! I mean I have goosebumps!”  She held out her dark arm to show her and Ana was impressed.

“In my time, the race and gender of the cast members meant a lot-” Ana explained.

Caroline suddenly checked her watch that started vibrating subtly. “I have to head back! Can I--is it alright to talk more about it next time you’re in?”

“Of course, I’d love to,” Ana replied.

Ana took her to the ladies’ room, probably the nicest ladies room in the Commonwealth, being brand new and all. They made sure it was empty before Caroline got into one of the stalls for some extra cover. “Good night,” Ana whispered through the door.

“Good night, thank you so much, ma’am.” Before Ana could suggest Caroline just call her ‘Ana’, the relay crackled and she was gone.

Hancock and Danse were at the bar when she returned.

“What’s with the pet?” Hancock asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“She’s not my pet...” Ana flushed, though she wasn’t sure what she was flushing about. “She’s nice. She’s helping me with the concrete problem. I just can’t help thinking of a doll when I look at her...”

“That’s pretty much the definition of a pet.”

“Shush,” Ana said, batting at his arm.

“A rum and Nuka for the General,” said Danse. White Chapel Charlie had been enlisted tonight.

“Thank you, Danse,” Ana smiled as she got her drink in a shockingly clean glass. She sipped at it, feeling her cheeks warm and a heat go through her spine, relaxing her.

“I didn’t know you liked girls,” said Hancock, back to the bar with his elbows propped on it.

Ana used the plastic stick in her glass to prod an ice cube. “I don’t know if it’s like that...” she mumbled. “I just like looking at her.

“Well, if you ever want to invite her over-”

“Shut up!” Ana hissed, red-faced. “You better not say anything weird to her, either, I need her help! She knows a lot about construction and she’s helping me with really big stuff!”

“What big stuff?” Danse and Hancock asked in unison.

Ana furrowed her brow, toying with her drink again. “Well...Danse remember when we were in Diamond City and you said how sad it was that people have to live in a stadium when there are all those buildings still standing outside?”

Danse nodded. “You remember that?”

“I never forgot it. You were right. There are perfectly good buildings, perfectly good towns even. And I was thinking Concord might be a good testing ground. Completely overhaul a standing city with plumbing and electricity. I cleared out Concord’s sewer system. There were deathclaws but the thing is that the deathclaws were keeping other predators and raiders away. So I want to go in and set up defenses before raiders or super mutants settle in. But it’s going to mean walls. Serious walls. Caroline’s helping me figure it all out. It’ll make Covenant look like it has picket fences around it.”

Hancock smiled, “You get such a nice look in your eye when you talk about this stuff.”

“It’s important. We need to start taking back the cities. And Concord seems doable.” She bit her lip. “But I need a lot of help from my underground friends,” she added quietly.

Hancock and Danse were quiet then but John rubbed a hand up and down her back. They knew how dirty she felt about working with The Institute, extracting help from them, like every bit of help was an I.O.U that they would cash in one day.

“I think we’ll be heading back now,” she said, downing her drink. “What about you?”

“I’m quite tired myself, I’ll be at Home Plate,” said Danse, smiling a little. “Good night, you two.”

“Good night, Danse.”


	7. Arrest Warrant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more banging.

The Chinese stealth armor was now being put to a use she was sure it's creators had never intended, for an American to go see a lover.

Hancock blatantly watched her change from the doorway for a while before he came to put his arms around her waist. “I really like you in this thing,” he murmured, touching her stomach.

She kissed his cheek. “I’ll let you take it off of me when I come back.”

“I’ll fucking wait up,” he grinned. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m nervous,” she admitted, braiding her hair and starting to pin the braid down with bobby pins so it would fit in the helmet. “This means a lot to him. I want it to be good. I want to be good.”

Hancock’s fingers took hold of hers. “Baby. Trust me. You‘re going to murder that man.”

She’d decided to give Danse Home Plate, her place in Diamond City. She didn’t want him staying at that old Listening Post, that wasn’t a home. Also, she liked the idea of a synth secretly living in Diamond City right under those bigots’ noses.

Danse had undone his tie when she slipped in.

“Danse,” she whispered and he turned, smiling when he saw her stealth field turn off as she removed her helmet.

 

“You know...I thought perhaps you might call me by my first name,” he said softly into her hair, helping her with the fasteners of her armor.

Ana blinked. “I thought you only had the one!” Some people in the Commonwealth only had first names or last names, it was easy to lose your parents and there wasn’t a lot of documentation to keep track of family names. It wasn’t like people had IDs except maybe holotags and again, that didn’t mean you had a first and last name to go on it.

He kissed her neck and smiled a little against it. “I have three. Saul Johnfield Danse.”

Saul? Saul??? His name was Saul? She stared at him, speechless. Her brain couldn’t process this.

Saul???

How could that be his name? He didn’t look like a ‘Saul’! His name was ‘Danse’!

“You’re extremely surprised,” Danse said. Saul said.

“I’m extremely surprised,” she agreed. “Saul...” she said, trying to acclimate.

Danse smiled, arching an eyebrow. “I suppose this is my own fault, for never introducing myself properly.”

“Wow...yeah I guess it’d be weird if I was just moaning your last name.”

Danse (Saul???) nodded. “That was my reasoning,” his voice lowered as a breast appeared from beneath the layers of armor. He leaned down to kiss it and she shivered. His hand was so big and he used it to grasp a handful of her considerable ass through the suit.

“I’ll ruin the suit,” she mewled as his beard brushed her nipples. “Get me out of it first.”

Saul???

He hoisted her onto the dining room table that she’d recovered from an old manor, it would have been worth a lot back in her time. It was probably still worth a lot to someone who could recognize what it was. It was heavy oak and it could support her weight easily as he slid the lower portion of her suit down and off until she was left in just panties.

How was she so breathless and heated just from this? Just from his beard tickling at her and being undressed? They’d barely done anything.

Taking hold of her by the waist, he leant down to catch hold of her panties with his teeth, making her jump a little at the beard again on her hips, then her thigh as he pulled them down. Danse did that kind of thing? Took panties off with his teeth?

She felt a strange protectiveness rise in her. Who’d been teaching her Danse these sex things?!

Her being naked and him fully clothed somehow made her feel even more naked.

Danse didn’t let her get cold, seeming quite aware that she should be kept warm, crowding close rubbing his hands up and down her arms and back and sides. They weren’t even kissing, he was just touching and squeezing like he’d never felt another human before.

Tucking her head under his chin with one hand, he shushed at her as his other hand found itself between her thighs, grazing wet folds with his fingers. Those thick fingers she’d wanted.

“Ah,” he commented as he tested her with a finger, getting a tremble out of her as it slid in. And then out, and then swirled and then in again.

“D-Danse,” she stammered against his shoulder as he started plunging with first just the one finger, but soon two. So thick. They were so thick.

 

“Saul.” Her hips fought on the table, trying to get at his fingers more, trying to fuck herself on them, her had clutching the hairs at the back of his head in a death grip.

Her noises guided him to the right spot. He really seemed to know what he was doing for someone who claimed to be inexperienced.

“Take off your jacket and shirt. Please,” she panted, clutching at his fingers. He obliged but thankfully did so as quickly as possible so he could return his hand to her.

Her exhale came out in staggers, revelling at the feel of his skin on hers. He was so warm, the warmest thing in the world. He picked her up, locking their mouths together, making her gasp and whine into his kiss when he took his hand away again.

Danse took her to the couch and sat her on his lap, facing him before mouthing on her breasts again, kissing and licking and tickling her with that beard again. But now she could feel him, hard and thick in his trousers. She ground down on it, getting a groan out of him. First groan of the night and she was surprised by how much she liked it. Hancock made all sorts of appreciative sounds but Danse was very quiet.

She wanted him to make noise.

“Lay back, let me...” she cooed to the top of his head. Again he obeyed and she got on her knees in front of him, watching him as she undid his pants, finding him erect and throbbing.

“Nhh...” he made a little noise when she took hold of him. Yes, good.

Her lips took him in, wrapping hot around him and he hissed. Also very good.

With thick fingers he stroked her hair but like he needed something to do with his hands in order to control himself. His eyelids were lowered to slits, the two of them watching one another as she started bobbing on him. She was better at this now from practice with Hancock and the work showed. Or he was just more sensitive than Hancock.

She’d practiced on carrots, too but she still couldn’t get Hancock all the way down and he kept getting scared that she was going to pass out with all her attempts. Which was very sweet of him because her attempts were apparently enough stimulation to make him finish very quickly.

So she tried not to do that, she wanted to go slowly for Danse. She purred against the velvety skin, mouth coming off with a pop and then she swirled her tongue over the head, trying to put on a good show for him and was rewarded with a bit of precum.

She slathered her saliva across him before starting to pump him with her hand and bobbing again on the portion she could fit into her mouth.

“Ana. I’m...I’m afraid I can’t last long when you do that.”

“No?” she cooed, blowing across the skin a little, getting a little jump from him. “Where do you want to finish?”

“Inside you,” he said, and she loved the strain in his voice.

“I want that, too,” she murmured, climbing onto his lap, straddling him, spending time just rubbing against him and riling herself up. “Please come in me, Saul.”

He took hold of her hips like he was about to guide her down onto him but paused. “You don’t have-- rather...In The Brotherhood, where pregnancy is an issue there are medications provided that--”

“Birth control. The Institute gave me a shot, I’m, um, good to go.” In their first session, Dr. Volkert had said it was an option and she’d gotten it right then. What a nightmare it would be if Maxson had gotten her pregnant.

She pushed that away and circled her arms around his neck. “So um. Please?”

He found her lips with his and kissed. He hadn’t kissed her tonight before now and she melted into it, feeling her heart pound. Why did she like Danse’s kisses so much? She didn’t like facial hair in general but she’d found she really liked his. Hands on her hips again, he guided her down until she was settled into place. He didn’t move and so she was left squirming, huffing.

“Saul, please.”

“I’ve found I like it when you say ‘please’,” he whispered, giving her a few firm thrusts, thick and pulsing heat inside of her. “You’re quite...cute. Like this.”

“Cute?” She’d never been called ‘cute’ before. She’d gotten a completely normal amount of compliments in her life, of course, but not ‘cute’. She was too big to be ‘cute’.

“Cute,” he murmured, starting to move again, making her whimper and gasp.

She gripped the back of his neck for leverage and started riding him, biting her lip and meeting his thrusts. “Yes,” she said, urging him on when he met the place she liked best. “Yes, please.”

This wasn’t missionary. This was something else, she didn’t know what. Sitting something. It felt amazing.

She licked his lips, coaxing them open so she could taste, hips moving harder. She’d been gentler with Hancock, not wanting to squeeze him too hard, but with Danse she could grip the smooth expanse of his back like she wanted, ride him like she wanted.

She thought, maybe, Danse was feeling the same way, the way he was holding onto her. They were both strong, she’d always wondered who would win in a fight.

Danse stood, picking her up again and she locked her ankles at the small of his back. She didn’t get picked up very much so this was all very startling.

Kissing on her throat, he took her to the bed she’d actually made for herself. She hadn’t thought she’d be making love to Danse on it. Or anyone.

He fell back onto the bed so that she was on top of him, straddling him like he was a horse. She rested her hands on his chest and started rolling her hips, seeing if he’d like that, driving a groan out of him as her reward.

“Saul,” she mewled, as she sank and rose, suddenly spasming, surprising herself with her own orgasm.

“You look amazing like that,” he said, his voice strained with heat and fucking. He grasped her hips holding her still to jack into her again and again, fast and hard, her body squeezing in little flurries of aftershocks.

His hips came up fully off the bed as he came, that sweet pulse of him spilling into her making her moan.

They did, after that, do missionary.

\---------

“Hey, Danse?” came Piper’s voice through the locked door of Home Plate.

Ana scrambled out of bed grabbing her armor and panties and running to the bathroom to hide.

“Coming,” Danse called, she heard him getting his pants on and going to the door. “Can I help you?”

“Heh...jeez, Danse...” said Piper. Ana guessed she was commenting on how he looked shirtless. Which was very good. “Uh. Sorry for the hour. Hancock wanted me to tell you that The Brotherhood are rumbling around Goodneighbor looking for Ana. So... don’t go there.”

“I see,” he sighed a little, “Thank you, Piper.”

“No problem, we’re neighbors after all. You know, why don’t you come over for dinner? You hungry?”

“Yes, actually. That would be nice.”

“Heh. Cool. Come by in like, half and hour and it’ll be ready.”

“I couldn’t think of how to say ‘no’ without being rude,” he said once she’d left. “My mind went blank.”

Ana laughed a little. “Aww, you poor thing. Well, I don’t know how Piper’s cooking is, probably not terrible since she’s gotta cook for herself and the little sister.” She kissed Danse’s cheek. “I should get going, find out what that’s about.” It was obvious Hancock had meant that message for her if she was still there.

“What clothes do I have here again...” she murmured, looking in the closet for the pack of stuff she kept there. It was Danse’s place but...she still needed to keep changes of clothes around.

\---------

She’d left the stealth armor behind, coming into Hancock’s town in a suit and tie.

Goodneighbor had six Brotherhood members milling around its streets. The Neighborhood Watch was not pleased, neither were the denizens of Goodneighbor in general.

“I heard you were looking for me?” she asked as she came up, smiling at them.

“Knight Torrence,” said one of them, the highest ranking. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Elder Maxson.”


	8. Prime Suspect

Proctor Ingram folded her hands in front of her and Proctor Teagan shifted behind her. Ana’s own hands were cuffed and chained to the desk in this makeshift interrogation room. She was desperately resisting the urge to experimentally tug on the cuffs, see how solid everything was. 

Ana had gone along peacefully, despite Hancock chomping at the bit to have the Brotherhood Knights mowed down by The Watch.

“I told you, I was with Hancock. The brothers who picked me up can verify that,” Ana said, still blushing about it even though it’d been her plan all along.

“Yes, that’s what you’ve said. However, it is possible for someone to have boarded the Prydwen and made it back to Goodneighbor by the time the retrieval team arrived,” said Teagan. “We timed it.”

Ana bobbed her head in thought. “Yeah, I guess so. But I don’t have any reason to kill him.”

“I think you do. Paladin Danse. Rather, the synth we thought was Paladin Danse. M7-97. He was your sponsor into The Brotherhood, you two are close,” said Ingram. Ana wasn’t sure if ‘good cop, bad cop’ still existed after 200 years, probably not.

Ana made a face. “Maxson agreed to exile Danse. Not kill him. I was grateful for that.”

“But it’s true that you have a lot of synth sympathy.”

Ana sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” It wasn’t much of a secret that her settlements were synth-friendly.

“While at the same time you’re working as an operative for The Institute,” said Proctor Teagan.

Shit. Shit. Ana could see where this was going.

“You guys wanted me to!” Ana said, incredulous. “You think I like doing stuff for them?”

“Of course your insight has been invaluable to The Brotherhood. But it’s difficult to know where your allegiances lie, Knight Torrence.” It was weird to hear someone using her last name after all this time.

“So, because you guys like having me play double agent, NOT my idea I might add, that makes me a suspect?”

Ingram drummed her fingers on the table, considering Ana.

“There something else,” Ana said, peering at her. “What? Why do you think it’s me?”

“We haven’t yet discerned a sure way to determine if someone is a synth without killing the person,” said Proctor Ingram.

And now Ana understood. They thought she’d been replaced by a synth by The Institute. Of course.

“I’m not a synth. All of my friends know I haven’t changed.”

“Haven’t you?” asked Ingram, lifting her brows. “Suddenly seeing someone after all this time? Word was not to bother you, that you were still in mourning. All mourned out?” Word? All this time where Ana thought she was home free, Teagan and Ingram had been looking into gossip about her.

Ana glared, heat flaring in her cheeks. “This is ridiculous. Falling in love doesn’t mean I’m a synth.”

What was obnoxious here was that she had, of course, killed Maxson, just not for the insidious Institute reason they thought. 

“What, don’t I get a lawyer or anything? I’m just in jail now? Forever?”

“There will be a tribunal,” said Teagan.

“Oh great. Filled with people that want someone to hang this on,” said Ana. She didn’t know how indignant she could feel about this, seeing as she HAD killed him.

“Frankly,” said Ingram, looking sympathetic. “You’re the only one in The Commonwealth we think has the skills to do so. Coursers used to be the big spooks, but you’ve killed coursers. You’ve done a lot to set yourself apart.”

“One courser,” Ana murmured. “As flattering as this all is,” Ana said, lowering her voice. “I have an army. That I have only loose, very loose, control over.” Technically, she had two forces she could muster. The Minutemen, of course, but there was nothing stopping The Institute“You need to let me talk to them so they don’t go berserk.”

“If you think your farmers with their pitchforks can do anything against us--” said Teagan.

“It’s not a threat. I want to prevent any bloodshed here. Let me get a message to Preston Garvey to make sure they stand down.”

Ingram and Teagan exchanged a look.

“Alright,” said Ingram. “We’ll let you compose something and we’ll send it out with someone.”

“Please send Scribe Haylen. My friends know about her, they’ll trust her,” said Ana.

Ingram nodded and stood. “I know Haylen. I can do that.” Ingram returned with pen and a manila folder to write on. 

Ana touched the precious paper product. She had to think hard before she wrote because this was pen and not pencil. “I have people in Sunshine Tidings making paper,” Ana said quietly.

“Oh, really?” Ingram said with interest. And like that it was almost like they were friends again. She was always interested in things like that.

Ana nodded. “They’re still figuring it out. One of my friends has a newspaper and showed me how she makes hers. I want bigger sheets, more durable. Hers is really thin, kind of...oily.”

Hi, Preston.

I’m fine. Just in BoS jail. They think I killed Maxson and that maybe I’m a synth replacement. There’s going to be some kind of court case thing to determine if I’m guilty. I guess they’re waiting for Brotherhood people to come up from the DC area to do it. I like Ingram, I think she’ll give me a fair shake. Don’t let anyone do anything dumb. I can handle this. 

Please give John my love. Tell him I said not to do anything. Bring Mac and Deacon to help calm him down. Try to tell X6 not to do anything either, if you can.

You’re in charge now,  
Good Luck.  
Ana

She couldn’t say anything about Danse, there was no reality in which they weren’t going to read this message. She hoped it sounded casual enough that it would help them all not freak out.

So Ana was in jail. The slammer. The brig?

The worst part was the boredom. They’d taken her Pip-Boy, so there was nothing she could do. Them taking her Pip-Boy also prevented her from just Relaying out.

Her biggest worry was X6. X6-88 did not seem like he was going to--

There was a flash of bright blue light and there he was.

“This is X6-88, ready to relay with--” Ana slammed her hand over his mouth. 

“No! No! I’m saying no! That’s...that’s an order!” Please work.

She could feel X6-88 tense under her grasp, his eyes invisible behind his sunglasses. Slowly the tension eased and he stood at attention.

Ana pulled her hand away, watching him closely before letting out a sigh. “I can’t leave. I need to stay here. Wait this out. I think I have a good chance. They don’t have any evidence. They think I’m a synth, if you rescue me they’ll really really think I’m a synth.”

“The future Director of The Institute cannot be held captive by The Brotherhood of Steel. Ma’am,” he said stiffly. “This is war. It’s time to wipe these people off the map.”

Reaching out she swiped his sunglasses and then grabbed the side of his face, putting their foreheads together. “I know you’re mad. I know you want to protect me. But we need to think about the future.” She said, thinking as fast as she could. “There are so few humans left, X6. And even fewer with the ability to fight, that have military training. The Institute is a bunch of scientists. We need people to protect The Institute if we’re going to start operating on the surface, out in the open. And if we kill an entire army, what will the people of the Commonwealth think?”

He furrowed his brow. “Synths protect The Institute.”

“You’re a scalpel, X6. These guys are sledgehammers.” Please make sense. Please. “You know The Institute doesn’t have the power to keep track of all its synths. They have a whole division for bringing back synths. We can’t field an army. The Commonwealth needs an army.”

She bit her lip, looking at his grey eyes. She was close enough to see his eyelashes, to feel his breathing. “Please.”

He put his hand on her, where her jaw met her neck, his eyes shutting a little. “Ms. Torrence...” 

Her heart rate picked up. He’d said her name so strangely.

“I can only follow your orders. I will carry them back to Father. He might override you,” he said, his voice so soft.

“Tell him that at the very least, wait and see if I’m found guilty. We can reassess then. I’m perfectly safe in here. No one is hurting me or anything.” She doubted her son cared about whether she was being tortured or not, but X6 did so she gave him more assurances. 

“Of course, ma’am. Can I bring you anything?” X6 he asked.

She shook her head. “You’re so sweet. I’m fine. It’s just boring, is all.”

She watched X6 look around the small metal room, his disdain for it obvious. Technically, it was nicer than where a lot of crew slept as it wasn’t out in the open, it was private. It was actually just a supply closet that they’d put heavy mag lock on. There was nowhere to hide anything if he did bring her something.

“Thank you for trying to save me,” she said, squeezing his hand.

“It’s my duty, ma’am. I had better head back.”

She nodded. “Please just try to be patient.”

\---------

Ana kept track of the time by the food they brought. Three squares a day. They let her keep clean. She couldn’t really complain. It was really hard to complain when you were in jail for something you definitely, definitely did.

Should she just admit it? Explain what he did to deserve it?

Admitting to it, there was just no taking that back. There were only two reactions she thought possible: they believed her or they didn’t. Them believing her could still mean ‘you’re going to be executed for killing Elder Maxson’.

On the third day they brought her a terminal and holotapes of The Codex, Brotherhood rules and guidelines. Finally she had something to do.

The Brotherhood had a lot of stuff on honor and duty and the chain of command. Apparently an elder had never been murdered by their subordinates, they’d been ousted for not following a chain of command protocol. It was called “The Chain That Binds”. It dictated that you had to give orders down the chain of command without skipping ranks. Therefore, an elder could give an order to a paladin and then the paladin could give an order to a knight, but an elder couldn’t give the order directly to a knight. She guessed a lot of people got around this by their superior officer giving the order ‘do whatever the higher ups tell you’. The idea was that skipping ranks might undermine the authority of your superior officer. 

So it was common practice to not actually do this, but then somehow it had been used as justification to oust elders. No executions.

It was expressly forbidden to have “relations” with people of a different rank unless first informing the superior officer of each party and asking permission. 

Maxson didn’t have a superior officer, but if he’d wanted to have a legitimate, consensual relationship with her, he would have consulted Danse. So Maxson had broken rules all around there. But hadn’t Danse said that it was forbidden, period? Maybe he just felt as if it was forbidden...?

If she’d gone the official route, she would have complained to Danse. Actually, since Danse was in exile, maybe she had just been under Maxson’s command? They hadn’t assigned her to some other Paladin, she was just some weirdly free floating knight.

She found some information on sexual assault. It was forbidden. The punishment was exile.

There was no real protocol for if an elder was murdered, so it looked like they were following ‘what if a regular person was murdered’ standards here. At least for the time being. And yes, teh punishment would be death.

But as complex as this was, it was nothing compared to Massachusetts law so Ana soaked it up easily.

On the seventh day of her captivity, she was hauled down to the airport and in front of Proctors Ingram, Teagan, Quinlan, and a bunch of people she didn’t recognize.

“This is Knight Torrence,” said Ingram, taking a seat. It was awkward for her to sit in the power armor she wore.

There was an Elder Nadia, a Sentinel Ahmed but beyond that Ana forgot everyone’s name. Which seemed okay since the elder was doing all the talking.

“You are, to date, our best suspect,” said Elder Nadia.

“I understand that,” said Ana. 

Elder Nadia drummed her fingers on the desk, looking around at the room of people. “Clear the room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm running out of chapter titles.
> 
> I realize after Blind Betrayal, Ana should be a Paladin as you get that rank after that, but I figured Maxson wouldn’t have given her a promotion right then and then he was dead so...she’s a Knight right now.
> 
> Comments, please! They're what keeps me going!


	9. Chapter 9

“Ma’am?” asked the Sentinel.

“Clear the room,” she repeated. “She’s chained to a chair, you think she’s going to kill me like that, Sentinel?”

Sentinel Ahmed backed down but looked unhappy.

The Elder was an older woman with dark skin and bright white hair. Still, once the others had left the room, she picked up her chair and carried it over so that she could sit right in front of Ana.

The woman peered at Ana closely. “Look at those shoulders,” she hummed. “Strangle a brahmin with those arms, I bet.”

Ana didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll let you know a secret. I know you did it. Maxson was a strong man. They showed us the crime scene. Someone had a real fight with the man. A damn brawl. Not a lot of women fit that category.”

Women? How did she know it was a woman? “Woman, ma’am?”

“Woman,” Elder Nadia asserted again. “You’ve been locked up. A few things have come to light. It seems that the Elder’s death and your being accused has led to several people deciding to unload some heavy burdens.”

“Burdens?”

“Are you going to repeat everything I say? Yes. Burdens. Things they’ve been too afraid to talk about. Until now.”

Others. There were others. 

Elder Nadia smiled. “And you know exactly what I’m referring to.”

Shit. Recognition must have been plain on her face. Shit!

“At first it was just one scribe. One that you’re acquainted with so her statement wasn’t taken seriously. And then there was another. And then another and another. And then a knight-sargeant coming to me in tears because he knew everything but had convinced himself he was wrong about what he heard and saw while he was on guard duty. So. Were you one of them too? Or did you find out about it? Did someone confide in you?”

Ana shut her eyes, feeling a headache approaching. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmm, we both know you do. You see, I don’t think you’re a synth. I think you’re a driven, results-oriented person. You saw something bad, so you rolled up your sleeves and dug down and got to the root of the problem,” Elder Nadia’s eyes were sparkling.

Elder Nadia started patting at her robes until she withdrew a cigarette case and a lighter, lighting it. “So. Now we have a dead elder and a likely suspect with an altruistic motive.” She exhaled smoke and made a pretty impressive smoke ring. “And a handful of victims.” Elder Nadia lifted her eyebrows. “Didn’t you come down to the Capital Wasteland recently?”

Her trip to get the stealth armor. How had she known that? Ana had touched base with the Brotherhood of Steel while she was there, cone a couple odd jobs for them, but she was surprised someone have kept track of that and then let this woman know.

“Yes, I wanted to know what it was like down there.”

“Perhaps. But the real reason you were there,” said Elder Nadia, putting her warm hand on Ana’s shackled one. “Is that you wanted to see me.”

\------------

“An elder does not act with impunity,” said Elder Nadia, her voice booming across the Prydwen and the Boston Airport below.“We, above all others, must obey The Codex and act with the utmost propriety. I know that Maxson made himself seem preternatural, god-like, that many of your looked up to him with religious fervor. But the Brotherhood of Steel was made by men, mortal, fallible men. Not gods. The punishment for Maxson’s crimes would have been exile. However. When Knight Torrence approached me and told me of her concerns, I instructed her that I would not suffer another attack on our members, that in the meantime Maxson should be executed to protect our soldiers as he represented a clear and present danger to your safety.”

Ana was standing behind Elder Nadia in a BoS flight suit as the elder gave her speech, chin up, looking at none of the others in the room. Proctors Ingram, Teagan, and Quinlan were all present, as well as Lancer-Captain Kells and the posse that Elder Nadia had brought with her. Elder Nadia was using the ‘clear and present danger’ clause to good effect. If someone was a clear and present danger, then they could be executed without use of a tribunal. The chance you took was that afterwards you might be executed yourself if it was found that your target had no fulfilled the conditions of the clause.

“It was with my express permission and that of the Council that this was carried out. She was the only person I could trust to accomplish such a feat, and should this cell of The Brotherhood turn on her, she had a bevy of allies outside The Brotherhood who would act as a check, ensuring her safety until I could arrive with reinforcements.”

Elder Nadia shuffled through her notes. “You must understand, we had no idea how all of you were react, if you would do what was right and turn away from your adoration of Maxson. But I am proud that The Brotherhood has cast down its false idol, that you have all rallied to support your sisters. The Brotherhood is not only a place for men, but for women as well, and such outrages within our ranks must be cut out swiftly and precisely. I apologize for the complications and discomfort Knight Torrence and others have faced during this cleansing, but I saw no other way to prevent more outrages upon our members.”

Ana was still amazed at how easily Elder Nadia seemed to come up with this scheme. That Ana had been in the Capital Wasteland to report Maxson (rather than picking up the stealth armor she’d need to murder him), that Elder Nadia had known all about this, that Ana had been sent on a special mission to execute Maxson to remove him as a threat. And of course Ana had kept it under wraps, it was impossible to assure her own safety otherwise until Elder Nadia could make it up here with a support team to take Maxson’s place.

Which was what Elder Nadia was accouncing then. That she would now be in charge of operations in The Commonwealth.

Ana wondered how much of this was The Council and how much of this was Nadia. Had the whole Council wanted Maxson out? There was no way Nadia could oust Maxson all on her own, right?

Once the speech was over, Nadia linked arms with Ana, leading her off. “All done. Welcome to a better Brotherhood of Steel, Sentinel Torrence.”

Ana’s eyes widened.

“My right hand woman can’t just be a knight, after all,” said Elder Nadia.

So Ana was free. But now inexorably tied to The Brotherhood. She couldn’t really say ‘I didn’t agree to be your right-hand anything, lady’ to the person that had just saved her from a really bad situation.

But.

A new elder meant that Ana had a chance to make her case for the synths.

\--------

In Sanctuary, Hancock offered her his hand as he helped her down from the vertibird, a generally triumphant murmur going through the crowd as she descended.

“Though you were a goner, boss,” said MacCready, voice a little hoarse as he hugged her.

“I thought she was going to single-handedly destroy The Brotherhood,” said Deacon. “I kept expecting the explosion of a crashed airship any second. Can’t believe you took it so easy on them!”

“I knew you’d be alright,” whispered Danse as he squeezed her into his chest.

“Oh thank GOD,” said Preston, looking nervous and frazzled as he attached to her, barely waiting for Danse to let go.

“That bad, huh?” she asked, tugging at the front of his hat a little. 

“So bad,” Preston grinned, but still obviously worried she’d be taken away again somehow.

“It’s okay. Really. I’ll give you a long update at The Castle tomorrow morning. There’s a lot of stuff to unpack.”

“Right, of course,” Preston nodded as she gave out hugs and shoulder squeezes to her overjoyed settlers.

\-------

A while later, Ana was soaking in a large metal tub, steam rising off her skin. They’d let her keep clean enough on the Prydwen but the massive airship had a bucket and sponge system that didn’t really cut it in her opinion.

“Plumbing,” she said to Hancock and Danse who were behind the barriers surrounding her bath set up, they were the kind you’d normally use to surround a surgery scene. “Now that I’m back we can focus on plumbing in Concord again.”

“Probably take a day,” came Danse’s voice.

“Or a year,” said Hancock. “Let us come in there. Help you with all those hard to reach places.”

‘Us’? As in both of them?

Her silence made him laugh. “I’m guessing your face is as red as Danse’s right now. Just let us scrub you down a bit, we miss touching you.”

“...Okay,” she relented, sinking beneath the layer of bubbles as much as she could manage.

Hancock pulled back one of the barriers to the side. Both of them had their jackets off and their shirt sleeves rolled up.

Danse knelt by her head and started rubbing her shoulders, getting a hiss and a sigh out of her. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t dragged you into The Brotherhood...”

She reached back to stroked his cheek. “Then Maxson would still be on the loose, sweetheart. Elder Nadia listened when I made the case for synths. This cell of The Brotherhood could become an ally. At the very least not a hostile party to escaped synths.”

“She listened to you? Really?”

Ana nodded and then moaned when Hancock started digging his knuckle into the palm of her foot.

“Less work talk, more cleaning the naked woman,” he dictated. “You two are incredible at making something so sexy distinctly unsexy.”

“Mm,” Ana said as Danse slid his strong hands along the back of her rib cage, working out the kinks.

Hancock got ahold of one of her arms and started to scrub it down.

“Did I miss anything?”

John rinsed his sponge and started on the other arm. “Beautiful, the whole Commonwealth was waitin’ to see if all Hell was gonna break loose. You should have seen X6. Just pacing around like a frustrated cat.”

Ana looked up through the curtain of her wet hair as Danse poured water from a bucket over her head to rinse the soap from it. “X6? He was here? In Sanctuary? Why here?” Why not pace in her room at The Institute.

“I’m guessing because this place is more like you. Smells like you. Me and Danse hung around here too. It just uh...it’s the only thing that’s close, feel me?” he shrugged. 

She didn’t have much time to consider this information because soon Hancock spoke up again. 

“Stand up.” He laughed at her expression. “Come on, that’s how bath time works!”

Holding onto Danse’s shoulder, she stood, letting Hancock scrub and rinse her legs, which she was perfectly capable of washing herself. But Hancock’s ministrations were firm and she liked how it felt on her muscles.

Her ghoul sweetheart started kissing at her hip, feeling between her legs with the washcloth. “Spread for me,” he coaxed and she held more tightly to Danse, worried about slipping as he cleaned her. She had handled that whole area already but somehow she was neglecting to state this.

“Clean enough to eat off of,” he purred, looking up at her.

“Quiet you,” she said, her voice coming out a little shrill. He passed the washcloth to Danse. “You get the top.” They traded off, Hancock holding her from behind to steady her as Danse lathered her chest. 

“Fuck, those tits,” Hancock groaned. “You wanna play around a bit, gorgeous?” he asked, nuzzling and kissing at her neck. 

“There’s two of you here,” she whispered, not sure how to phrase the problem. Danse’s hands roaming over her skin was making her voice a little breathy.

“I don’t mind the company. Danse? Wanna show Sentinel Torrence a nice time?”


	10. Chapter 10

“I thought you were too shy for--” Ana whispered as Danse carried her, bundled in a towel, to her bed. She could hear Hancock whistling happily as he started kicking off his boots.

“I thought you were too shy,” murmured Danse, setting her down.

Ana got under the covers immediately. “I am! I just...I--”

“You’re worked up. And it feels nice to be home,” suggested Danse.

“And I missed you both,” she said, tears suddenly in her eyes. 

“So I think we can agree these are exceptional circumstances,” Danse said, stroking her cheek and neck.

“Hey,” said Hancock, climbing into the bed on the opposite side and cuddling her head to his chest. “No crying. We don’t gotta, baby. We can just have a little slumber party like before. Hm?”

“I missed you,” she repeated to John, getting a kiss on her cheek for it.

“We missed you, too, doll. You want me to get lost so you can play with Danse?”

“I’d also understand if you wanted me to leave,” offered Danse.

She shook her head, “No, I want you both to stay. Please.”

\-------

They did not have a chaste little slumber party.

Ana whimpered into Danse’s mouth as Hancock spread her open and filled her with tongue. Danse was assisting by keeping hold of her ankles and her legs raised. “You are surprisingly lithe,” the synth commented idly.

Ana responded by giving a shuddering gasp as John’s fingers slid in and out while his mouth teased her nub.

“I...I want to-- I want you in my mouth,” she requested when she had some breath.

“Give the lady what she wants, Danse, you heartless man,” Hancock said into her wet folds.

She did, actually, like ‘giving head’ and licked her lips as Danse slid himself free of his pants and underwear like she was going to get a treat. Danse groaned loudly when her mouth engulfed him.

Without Danse keeping her legs up, she let them fall to either side of Hancock’s head, unable not to buck against his tongue and fingers, whining.

“Come for me, gorgeous, we’re gonna get a bunch out of you,” the ghoul promised amid her muffled sucks and moans.

Heat blazing up her spine, she arched and came against his tongue, nearly crying from relief. 

Impossibly wet, Hancock filled her with one firm thrust. “Fuck, you look great like that,” he cooed, his hand appearing to brush her hair away from her face to assist in her mouth’s work on Danse’s skin.

Her whole body was warm and tingling from stimulation, face flushed from repeatedly downing Danse’s cock and the feel of John plunging into her sex over and over, jolting her senses every time.

“You’re amazing at that,” Danse said in a reverent hush, slipping himself from her, trailing saliva from his head to her lips. “A little too amazing, give me a minute,” he huffed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and watching Hancock fall onto her now available lips hungrily.

Hancock grasped one of her thighs from behind the knee, pushing it up and gaining a different angle that made her whine into his mouth.

“There?” he asked, a hand sliding between them to tease her nub again, “There?”

She came again with a whimper, grabbing hold of Hancock with her arms and legs, keeping him inside as she peaked.

“Jesus, you’re strong,” Hancock groaned as he finished inside her, her walls milking it out of him desperately. “You gotta let me go, doll, you’ve killed me,” he grinned when her muscles seemed locked in place forever.

“It feels good,” she panted up at him.

“I know baby, but Danse is gonna make you feel good too,” he promised. “Also, you’re gonna break me. Or it. Or both of us.”

With another whine she unfolded, loosening her death grip on her handsome ghoul partner, and Hancock slid from her. 

He shook himself a little before punching Danse lightly on the shoulder. “Avenge me.”

She saw now that Danse had been watching, palming himself. His expression was dark and wanting and it startled her.

Taking her about the waist, Danse settled her on his lap, facing away. Ana never stopped being delighted by a person that could pick her up. He let her guide him into her and then hugged her tight to his chest, pinning her arms to her sides and burying his face in her black hair as he started to fill her again and again. He felt frantic.

“I was so worried,” he confessed against her ear. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I won’t...I won’t leave you,” she swore breathlessly, only half manking sense.

He turned his head and nipped at her ear, stubble tickling at her. 

“John. I’d appreciate your assistance,” she heard him say.

“Yes, sir,” said Hancock.

Danse bounced her up and down on his cock as John sucked a nipple and found her over-sensitive nub with his textured hand, teasing in little flicks. Ana’s noises were getting so loud and frantic, that when she thought back on this she would be mortified for her neighbors.

“You like that, sweetheart? You like all this attention?” rasped Hancock against her breast.

“Y-yes,” she admitted. She loved it. She loved the two of them overwhelming her body. How had she gotten so dirty?

The sound of their bodies slapping together seemed like the loudest thing in the universe. Her sweet paladin fucked her in quick, hard thrusts, biting at her neck and drawing a sharper kind of moan from her. The bite made her squeeze down on him, panting, and the reciprocal pulse of muscle from Danse drove another orgasm out of her. 

If Danse hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she would have fallen off of him. She felt like her mind was sliding onto the floor, it was so love-addled.

Somehow she was placed back into the bed, dizzy as she felt Hancock cleaning her up, some with a towel, some with his mouth. 

She mewled, petting at his head fitfully as he coaxed her burning body into a few aftershocks of pleasure.

They cuddled up on either side of her, she fell asleep with their hands warm and petting her hair and cheeks. 

\-----------------

“Ana, wake up!”

“Wake up, baby!”

Confusion swarmed Ana’s head, it was dark and two people were barking at her. She felt terrified and upset and she didn’t understand why. Her face was throbbing and wet, nothing made sense. The confusion only accelerated when she realized the sticky wet noise was her own sobbing.

A light blazed on, and she threw an arm over her eyes to blot it out. 

“Baby, it’s okay. It’s just us,” someone was saying slowly, cautiously, like she was a timid animal.

“John?” she finally pieced together, her eyes slowly adjusting. The sound of her own shaking, weepy voice startled her.

“That’s right, doll, it’s me. Danse is here too.”

Hancock was on his hands and knees on the foot of the bed, Danse stood behind him looking worried and holding a shadeless lamp. One side of his face was blossoming into a bruise.

“You had a bad dream,” said Danse

“Did I do that?!” she asked, alarmed.

“You were thrashing, it’s nothing. I shouldn’t have grabbed you,” he said apologetically.

She put her hands to her mouth. “I’m sorry! I can’t even... I just feel upset but I can’t even remember why.” The dream was evaporating in her hands.

John frowned, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Doll, you know why.”

Yes. She did.

She had to see that therapist.

\----------

“I was doing fine,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t having any flashbacks or nightmares or anything, and then suddenly this.”

“It’s called a night terror. But I’m not surprised you haven’t had symptoms until now. You were in survival mode, you had things to focus on, other people’s problems. Distract, distract, distract. As soon as you gave your mind and body time to actually relax and rest, the dam broke,” said Dr. Beaumont.

“None of us are immune to trauma, not completely, Ms. Torrence. You might be able to cope with trauma better than most, but we all have our limits. And...I think the triggering factor for this first incident might be the sexual component.”

Her sleeping with two people, being promiscuous.

Things she felt guilty about.

Saying she was putting Nate behind her was one thing, actually doing it would take a lot of time and effort. Even if she’d physically buried him.

Ana liked Dr. Beaumont. She prescribed some medication that she said Ana could pick up from the synth at the commissary.

X6 was waiting outside the therapist's office when she came out, panting and holding onto a wall for stability.

She blinked at him, startled for a moment before brightening. Instinctively, she wanted to hug him but she wasn't sure if he'd accept something like that right now out in the open like this.He was dressed all in white, it looked very striking against his dark skin.

"Let's go talk in my quarters," she said, giving him a glass of water when they arrived. As soon as the door shut he snatched up both her hands in his.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Yes! All okay now. They gave me a promotion and everything! Somehow this turned into me being a hero," she smiled at him. He was so worried. "I'm okay, really. I'm sorry I scared you."

"They put me on assignment," he said, cold frustration in his voice. "I wanted to be there when you returned."

"They told me when I asked that you were off somewhere, it's okay." Ana's heart squeezed for him and she put her arms around him, tucking his head to her chest. She stroked the back of his shorn head. "It's okay," she repeated. "Thank you for trusting me. I know it must have been hard not to just sweep me out of there. But I think it was worth it. The new Elder trusts me a lot now." She explained Elder Nadia's ruse, sitting on her couch, cuddling him to her.

“You really think they could work with The Institute?” asked X6-88. 

Right. Her big ole lie to X6 about how he shouldn’t lead a slaughter to save her because The Institute needed an organization like The Brotherhood of Steel. 

“I think we need them. I’m not sure how much they’ll help us. But we can’t afford to fight a war with them. We need to at least keep this as a cold war level. Maybe when I’m in charge, I can figure this out. I think Maxson not being there is going to help. His whole thing was basically that he came to The Commonwealth to declare war on The Institute. Which is weird because he barely understood that it existed and definitely had no idea what it was. They don’t think anyone should have technology but them. But they’re just using it for war. Which is what happened in the first place. I’m not going to let that happen again...” she trailed off, squeezing him idly.

“Basically, I’m just going to keep as many plates spinning as I can until I take over The Institute. But that won’t be for a long time. Shaun has a lot of years left in him still,” she said, smiling at him a little. 

Something flickered across his face.

“What is it?”

He sat up from where he’d been curled up with her, shaking his head. “Nothing, ma’am. I have duties to return to.”

As he rose, Ana caught his hand and looked up at him. “X6? Is something wrong with Shaun?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please comment!


	11. In Flagrante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bread!

He was dying. Her son was dying.

Her monstrous son was dying.

“My condolences,” X6-88 said gently, putting a hand on her back.

She didn’t know how to feel, there was just a weird gaping hole in her chest.

If she was being honest, Shaun didn’t feel like her son. But then why did she feel so upset?

Maybe she’d been hoping she could change him? She’d led others to having different understandings. Like Danse. Danse had been salvageable. 

X6 made a box of Institute-issue tissues appear and she looked at them. Here was X6. A man who cared about her safety fiercely, and he loved Shaun and Shaun’s vision. He loved The Institute. And yet he didn’t think he was human. Thought he deserved to be a slave, rather didn’t see himself as a slave. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Didn’t he know that he had thoughts? Feelings? Didn’t he understand that he had a self? Personhood? Above all, he should know.

She put her arms around his neck and after a moment he stroked her hair. He was so warm.

She had to save X6.

But she had to convince him he needed saving.

\-------

“I’m giving you a new courser,” said Shaun.

Ana froze as she sucked on the corner of her Institute-issue, ‘nutritional packet’ thing. “What? Why!”

Shaun blinked at her, startled. “X6-88 is a very capable courser. We need his abilities elsewhere. And we’ve a new model. Z4K-97B, come here.”

A synth appeared, she wasn’t sure what kind, their face was completely covered by a black helmet. 

“You’ll be assisting my mother. Obey her as you would me. Protect her. She’s the future of The Institute.”

“Yes, sir,” came a stilted, robotic voice from behind the mask. 

“Z4K is a gen 4 model, specifically designed for fighting. Stronger than previous generations, but without the problems we’ve had with gen 3 synths thinking they’re people.”

Ana nodded, “I see. Can I see under your helmet?”

Z4K immediately removed it. Underneath, he looked a little like....Shaun. She looked at her son. “Is he modeled after you?”

Shaun nodded. “After us. Yes,” he said, looking at Z4K with pride.

“Shaun. I’m sure he’s wonderful but I want X6. I like X6,” Ana said, touching his arm.

Shaun pursed his lips, regarding her. “I think you’ve gotten too attached to X6. He’s only a robot, mother. The Institute has lots of synths you might enjoy just as much. I’m sure you’ll like Z4K.”

Like Shaun was talking about a toy.

“I want X6,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “I’ve learned how to work with him. We’re in sync. You’re going to disrupt that.”

Shaun sighed. “Mother, please just try Z4K. Just for a little bit. He’ll be just the same but better, I promise.”

\--------

Z4K was not just the same and he definitely wasn’t better. Ana was desperately trying not to outright hate him. He couldn’t help the position he was in. It was hard for her not to humanize him but he very much wasn’t person.

She spent a lot of time trying to make sure he wasn’t a person.

“Nick?”

“It’s just nuts and bolts in there,” the detective said, lighting up a cigarette, making her wonder where the smoke went when he inhaled.

“Are you sure?” She’d set Z4K on her living room couch and was sitting in front of him on an ottoman, staring into his face, looking for humanity. Nick and Z4K were connected by a set of cords, intended for synths to interface with one another in case their wireless systems broke down for some reason.

“Positive. Like a Protectron,” he said, unhooking himself from the other synth. 

“Not like a Mr. Handy?” she specified, voice sharp.

“Not at all,” Nick assured her. “Hey, you think I’d lie about it?”

She sighed. “No. Of course not. Sorry. I’m just...”

“Worried. I get it. I wish more people would go out of their way to make sure their toaster isn’t a person.”

“We don’t even have toasters anymore,” she sighed, standing and tying her hair back. It really was getting long.

“Sometimes I forget,” he agreed. 

It was a familiar silence they fell into. Where they were both thinking about the world before the war, before the bombs fell. 

“I found a cookbook the other day,” she told him with a smile, suddenly remembering.

“You’re going to start baking or something?”

She laughed. “Me?” She gestured at herself, dressed in combat armor. “No. I gave it to Codsworth. But it did give me an idea.”

She told him about her plans for the old Beantown Brewery. 

\-----

“This is great,” said Mac around a mouthful of bread, sitting on an overturned barrel at the old brewery outside of Boston.

She sighed, “But which one is the best?”

“I’unno,” he said, grabbing up her other samples. She’d never understood the phrase ‘gobble up’ until now. Sometimes when she saw the mercenary eat she wanted to cradle MacCready’s head and tell him she’d never let him go hungry.

Right now she shoved at his shoulder though. “You are absolutely useless,” she huffed, letting him stuff himself. 

“How come it doesn’t taste like razorgrain?” he asked, face flushed from all his gobbling.

“Rice,” she said. “There used to be a little International District in Boston. And there was a Japanese bakery. They made these great doughnuts and they used rice flour. All this time people’ve been trying to make a bread out of the razorgrain when we could have been using rice.”

“You can make flour out of rice?” MacCready blinked at her.

She nodded. “Yep. I want to make this place into a flour mill. Maybe a bread factory. It’s got all this machinery already....I just feel like it’s possible.”

“You’re a great baker,” he told her.

“Why does everyone think I can bake...Codsworth did it. Anyway, did you and Deacon figure out anything on that thing?”

Mac gulped down some water from a canteen to wash down all the bread before answering. “Um. You’re not gonna like it...”

“Oh?”

He scratched the back of his neck. His very obvious tell that meant he was nervous, that and wiping the front of his nose. He really thought she was going to be mad...

“It’s okay, Bobby,” she coaxed.

She’d set Deacon and MacCready on the task of finding out who was fucking with her concrete. And someone was messing with it. She’d had to rebuild whole sectors of her settlements’ defenses, all that work wasted. Deacon probably would have been enough but Mac with him would make it go faster, check on more settlements. 

And she thought there was something there with those two.

At first they’d bristled like cats at each other whenever she had them in the same room. But, just like with Danse, she’d put an end to that. But unlike with Danse she’d started putting them together on missions, even little errands. And slowly they started getting along, to the point where now they liked to jostle and sneak up on each other for fun. Deacon had to be at least ten, maybe fifteen years older than MacCready but he obviously had the spirit of someone that wanted to play. And MacCready was someone that would play with him.

And probably make out with him, but that was still to be seen. 

Mac had a thing for her, but she knew it wasn’t what he thought. She’d apparently been the first person that wasn’t his wife to be sweet to him since he’d left Little Lamplight. Sure people have been friendly, nice enough, but no one had coddled him like she did or pet the back of his head the way he liked. She was more like a big sister or, horridly, a mom to him. He just couldn’t math out how two adults could be gentle with one another without it being a sex thing.

She pet the back of his head now to relax him. “It’s really okay. I can take it,” she assured him.

“It took us a while. We thought it was some of the caravaners working together but nothing lined up. Deeks made a fucking chart and everything. Of when concrete came in, when it got used. And I was so bored I thought I’d die and honestly we didn’t even figure it out, we just caught one of them in the act.”

In flagrante, her ancient lawyer mind filled in.

“Who is it, Bobby?” she said, voice stern, he was stalling.

“The Brotherhood,” he said in a rush, ripping off the bandaid.

Her heart jumped. “What?”

“They make the rounds, you know? Protecting. ‘Protecting’. And I guess...fucking sabotaging settlements at the same time,” he said, irritated.

But he wasn’t as irritated as she was. She was suddenly aware of every follicle on her skin, her hands in fists.

“We dumped out the bad stuff and had the settlers mix a new batch,” Bobby was saying on autopilot.

“You caught one?” she interrupted. “‘Caught’?”

He grimaced. “We saw one doing it. I wanted to pick him off but Deeks wouldn’t let me. And I said we could bring him in to you, fucking hog tie him--”

“And Deacon said ‘no’ to that too,” she filled in, frowning. “No, he was right. That would have been a mess. Did you catch the name?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, finding a grubby scrap of paper. “Deacon put it in that stupid code.”

She fed the letters into her Pip-Boy and it only translated two letters before she knew who it was.

Rhys. Knight Rhys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno, is it too crazy if she sleeps with X6 too. Three feels like a lot. Right? Three is a lot? I mean technically, in the game, you can have a whole swarm of lovers. So maybe it’s TECHNICALLY lore-friendly. But...story wise does it feel too crazy....?
> 
> Fuck the robot: y/n?
> 
> Unrelated, if you jump off of something a little too high, X6 says: Look, I know you've been through hell, but the Institute needs you.


End file.
